Hit the Ground Running
by Xue1
Summary: AU. The misadventures of one Lina Inverse in London c. 1700. ZL bias. Complete.
1. A Fateful Meeting

Disclaimer: I do not own Lina, Zelgadis, or Slayers. Don't sue. 

            Thank you to Alyssa for so patiently and thoroughly beta-reading this. 

Hit the Ground Running 

            Chapter One

It was, all in all, a beautiful day. Bakers hustled behind the glass windows of their shops, crows and pigeons fought over the stale bread tossed out, and a few taxi-cab horses dozed forlornly at the street corners, cabbies slumped over the reins. The summer sun had just begun to win the battle against the ever-present early morning fog that was the river's most obvious gift to the city. Unbeknownst to those calmly flitting about their tasks in the street below, this tranquil scene of urban domesticity was not to last.

WHACK!

"Goddamn it to hell, why the fuck does this happen every single morning?!"

At the sound of piercing female shrieks of outrage, the pigeons took flight. At the accompanying outburst of profanity (hardly fit for a lady), children were pulled inside by concerned mothers.

Lina Inverse was up.

This, from the point of view of the lady herself, was not a happy development.

She was, at the moment, sitting up, dwarfed by the huge bed she had bought with the paycheck from her first big job, red hair writhing wildly, flung by static and the currents of magic disturbed by her anger into sticking almost straight up. She cradled her left hand in her lap and glared at the offending nightstand before getting up and hauling on some clothes, giving said nightstand a sound kick on the way. The morning ritual of _toss and turn, smack hand on nightstand, get up_ had become routine by now. This did not in any way lessen Lina's abiding hatred of the Mazoku-cursed, ill-carved lump of wood.

After the appropriate morning ablations, Lina exited her apartment and went in search of breakfast. On her way to the corner café, she steadfastly ignored the pointed stares and sharp whispers she generated on passing. Lina did not care in the slightest that her clothing was scandalous. For the work she did, she much preferred trousers and shirt to the constricting attire polite society deemed "suitable for a lady." She had long ago come to the conclusion that it was impossible to do magic in a dignified manner while wearing a skirt. This had been a great relief, as she had never liked the damnable things anyway. So Lina, cheered immensely from her customary morning funk by the prospect of an imminent breakfast, skipped, shoved, and elbowed her way over to the café, leaving a wake of outraged, shocked visages behind her, too cowed by infamy of Lina Inverse to say anything that might possibly give offense.

By the time she returned to her apartment, temporarily sated, Lina was back to her usual energetic self. On her way up, she checked the mail, hoping for a job offer. The thing about working as a mage-for-hire was that although the jobs paid extremely well, they were few and far between. By the time people were willing to overcome their prejudice against magic-users, Lina could usually tack on a danger fee and a couple of extra bonuses in addition to her normally exorbitant price, enabling her to live very well indeed. Now however, she had gone without working for two straight months. If she didn't come up with something soon, she would have to ask her sister for help paying the next month's rent. Lina was becoming desperate.

She quickly sorted through the letters, creating a small flurry of paper as envelopes were ripped apart and bills discarded with perfunctory disgust. At the end of this feeding frenzy, she was left with one mysterious envelope, neatly lettered, but sans return address. Holding her breath, she carefully pried it open, extracting the single sheet of paper encased within.

_Ms. Inverse,_

 I have it on good authority that when it comes to matters magical, you are an expert. I require assistance locating an item. You will be provided with backup and all expenses incurred during your employment will be covered. I am prepared to offer 1500 pounds upon completion.

1500 pounds? That was almost three times what Lina normally charged. And "all expenses covered?" That was music to her ears. 

You may, of course, request whatever additional pay you feel is justified.

At this, Lina ran a double check to make quite sure she was not hallucinating. Her greed was infamous enough to have acquired the status of legend. In some quarters, to say that a business partner was "as greedy as Lina Inverse" was considered grounds for immediate termination of further business relations. Whoever this guy was, he must be loaded to think seriously of hiring her on those conditions.

If the offer interests you, we can discuss it further on the sixteenth at 7:00 at the Fox and Hen at 112 Westlake Avenue.

_                                                            Your Servant, _

                                                                        Zelgadis Greywords 

Lina sat back and thought. The offer was definitely interesting. It needed to be treated cautiously, though. Greywords was offering an unheard-of price for her help – meaning that he must be really desperate. It was too good to pass up, but she wanted to meet this guy in person and ask him some questions first before committing herself. That letter had been worryingly bare of detail. She quickly glanced at the calendar on the wall. The sixteenth was the next day. No previous engagements to cancel or rearrange (In fact, the entire month was bare of previous engagements. Lina just kept the calendar for show.), so she ought to be able to discuss the matter at length with Mr. Greywords.

The Fox and Hen was smoky and ill-lit, raucous and noisy, reinforcing Lina's overall suspicion that this job was not entirely aboveboard. She inquired of Mr. Greywords from the bartender, who opened his mouth to sneer something uncomplimentary, but quickly closed it when Lina let a few threads of flame lick over her hands in preparation for a fireball. Instead of following through on his initial impulse, the bartender instead chose the wiser course of action and simply pointed to a table in the back of the room, well away from the rowdy tables at the center, occupied by a barely discernable figure enveloped in shadow.

Lina made her way through the crowd, sidestepping raunchy drunks at every turn, and finally arrived at her destination. 

"Mr. Greywords?"

At her inquiry, the figure glanced up. It was impossible to know what he looked like. He was wearing a high collared black overcoat with a hood pulled far over his face. Squinting through the smoke, she saw he hadn't stopped there. What wasn't concealed by the hood was hidden under a mask. Even his hands were gloved. 

Lina's eyes narrowed even further. _Come on,_ said the nice side of her brain. _There must be plenty of perfectly innocent reasons for someone to cover himself entirely like that._

_…_

_…_

_…_

_…_

Alright. So she couldn't think of any. 

"I take it you're Ms. Inverse?"

"Just Lina, please, if we're going to do business."

"Likewise. Zelgadis." 

Without waiting for an invitation, Lina slid into the seat opposite him and ordered the usual breathtaking amount of food, watching him wince at each additional item. He ordered nothing. She hadn't really expected him to. Someone who conceals himself with such determination is unlikely to blow his cover just for the sake of a little mediocre food. Speaking of which….

"So what's the deal with you? If you're trying to be inconspicuous, you're really going about it entirely wrong, you know. You couldn't look more suspicious if you'd shown up in chain mail and a petticoat."

He stiffened a little, and the glitter of his eyes directed themselves at a point just over her left shoulder as he replied.

"Skin ailment."

He was lying, of course. The refusal to meet her eyes effectively stripped away any credibility the flimsy excuse might once have possessed. _"Skin ailment," my ass._

"Not contagious, I hope?"

"No. Definitely not contagious."

That had been immediate and bitter, with a hint of cynical amusement lurking behind the words. Lina deliberated. To call him or not to call him on it?

"That's complete bull."

"Yes," he said, the equitable reply belying the tenseness she saw in his shoulders, "and I'll tell you the truth if you take the job, but unless you do, I refuse to put myself at risk simply to satisfy your curiosity."

"Fair enough. What is the job anyway?"

"Next week is the first Midsummer's Eve of a new century. Someone is making a Philosopher's Stone."

Lina's eyes widened with greed. The complex spells and alchemical calculations required to manufacture a Philosopher's Stone could be performed only once in a century. The Stone itself was a mouth-watering artifact. It was magic amplifier, sovereign remedy, talisman, and spirit lure all in one. This was definitely an interesting job.

"You want me to help you obtain it, right?"

He nodded and Lina pushed her greed down (albeit with some difficulty) to ponder the proposal. It would be theft, no doubt about it. But since when had petty moral concerns prevented Lina Inverse from attaining her goals? It would definitely be dangerous. Every mage in the city and the surrounding country would have caught wind of this by now, and the lure of a genuine Philosopher's Stone was too powerful to be ignored. Lina positively glowed at this prospect. She loved fights. Violence and explosions added spice to life. Zelgadis would probably want to keep the Philosopher's Stone for himself. She scowled a little. He was trying to hire her after all. Well, she could burn that bridge when she got to it. The chance at an honest-to-goodness Philosopher's Stone was just too good to pass up.

"Alright. I'll do it. You want to get started as soon as possible, right?"

Some of the tension flowed out of him, and he nodded again. They eventually agreed to meet early the next day at the café Lina regularly victimized for her breakfast. They walked out the door together and separated, Zelgadis stalking off into the shadows to disappear as if he had never been, and Lina cheerfully jogging back to her apartment.

It was with deep satisfaction that she snuggled into the sheets that night. Finally. Things were looking up. She was sure this job would prove both lucrative and interesting. 


	2. Firey Genius

Disclaimer: I do not own Lina, Zelgadis, or Slayers. Don't sue. Hit the Ground Running Chapter Two 

It was with more than her usual anticipation of a hearty breakfast that Lina raced past startled passersby on her way to the café the subsequent morning. Her dreams had been turbulent and vivid, filled with the breathtaking rush of magic coursing through her as she held the Philosopher's Stone in hand to do what she willed. She blasted Mazoku, invincible and brilliant, thaumaturgy as natural as breathing. She had woken up anxious to meet with Zelgadis and begin the search for the precious artifact.

Zelgadis was, predictably, already there, leaning against the wall at a shadowed table in the back of the establishment. Lina bounced over in a flood of red hair and greeted him merrily before proceeding to once again supply the chief cook with enough money to dower a grandchild. Zelgadis, evidently not a morning person, merely grunted sourly and ordered coffee. Lina, in between mouthfuls, watched in amazement as he somehow managed to pull his hood low enough to keep his face concealed as he sipped it. 

"How do you do that?"

"What?"

"How do you keep yourself completely hidden like that and drink at the same time?"

"Practice makes perfect," was the biting reply.

"You mean you go everywhere like that? Isn't that just a teensy-weensy bit paranoid of you?"

"None of your damn business." 

The reader may, perhaps, forgive Zelgadis this statement on the grounds (no pun intended, gentle reader) that he was only halfway through his first cup of coffee when he said it. Lina, however, was not so lenient, not by a long shot. She had had it up to here with the attitude. A little morning surliness was within the bounds of tolerance, but that had been a tad excessive. Time to let him know Lina Inverse is no one's shrinking violet.

"That's it. Before we go anywhere, I want to see what you're hiding under there. I like to know who I'm dealing with."

Something in the set of his shoulders told her he was intensely unhappy with this, but he seemed resigned. He hadn't expected her to let it go, but he still needed to steel himself for the probable consequences. 

"Fine. But not in public. Is there somewhere private we could go?"

In the end, Lina decided that her apartment was the most convenient location, and the two exited the café, Zelgadis trudging along with all the joyful air of a criminal on his way to public decapitation. By now, Lina was starting to worry a bit. What exactly _was_ he hiding? What if he was a wanted criminal? If he was, should she blast him or blackmail him? Was he hideously deformed? What if it was something else? The way he moped along seemed to indicate that by doing this he was trusting her a great deal. _And not many people trust me._ Was she really worthy of that level of trust? She had a hair-trigger temper, insatiable greed, blew anything that got in her way to hell….

Lina shook her head. If she kept this up, she'd be as angsty as Mr. Grim Reaper himself over there. There really was nothing to worry about. After all, she was Lina Inverse, and, as all the world knows, there isn't anything that Lina Inverse can't handle.

They finally arrived at the apartment, and Lina firmly directed her dejected guest to take a seat and placed herself in the chair opposite him, legs drawn up cross-legged and hands loosely clasped in her lap. Not, perhaps, the best of manners, but she hoped the informality would get Zelgadis to loosen up a little. The tension around him was nearly tangible. He seemed almost to _hum_, as if his muscles were strained so taut that every breath sawed across them like a violin bow. Guessing that actually removing the concealments might be the worst part of the ordeal for him, Lina tactfully directed her gaze to the thoroughly uninteresting wall to her right, waiting for the sounds of rustling cloth to stop. When silence once again descended, she looked back at Zelgadis who in turn was again absorbed in resolute contemplation of the wall over her left shoulder. 

Carefully masking her initial surprise, she gave him a minute inspection, noting all the strangely inhuman details. His hair gleamed metallically, and she could discern the long tips of sharply pointed ears poking through it at the sides of his head. What she could see of his face under the fall of wire hair was apparently blue in color. Around his eyes and jaw line clustered plaques of black rock, somehow rising naturally out of the oddly shaded skin. His eyes themselves were an almost black shade of blue and distinctly slitted. Lina found herself surprised at just how young his face was under the rocks. She had guessed him to be much older, and was startled to realize that Zelgadis was, at most, only a couple of years her senior. These observations were sharply interrupted by his voice, chill enough to force a volcano into dormancy.

"I know I'm a freak, but is it really necessary to stare quite that long?"

Lina blinked and ceased her minute inspection in favor of meeting his eyes. 

"Actually, I was wondering why you were so worried. I can see why you wouldn't want to go out in public without covering your face – I mean, even ordinary mages can find themselves on the wrong side of a mob – but you're hardly a freak."

Now it was Zelgadis' turn to blink in startlement. _Not the response he's used to, I guess_, Lina thought sadly. _Why can't people just leave each other alone?_

"You're a chimera, right?"

A cautious nod.

"I can guess you're part human and well, the golem part is fairly obvious, but there's something else in there too…."

That earned her a nearly imperceptible wince.

"Mazoku."

"Ah." 

Lina pondered that a little. She could see why he would hesitate to disclose that particular piece of information. Mazoku were demons. They literally feasted on negative emotions, and delighted in pain. Zelgadis didn't seem especially sadistic, though. Just surly. It was probably safe to conclude that he had some of the advantages of the Mazoku without the major disadvantages. 

"So what can you do? I'm not trying to pry or anything, but I presume you yourself are the backup you mentioned, so I'd like to know what I have to worry about."

To her relief, he nodded, appearing not at all offended. She had been worried that he would take that the wrong way, considering the level of hypersensitivity he had so far demonstrated towards his state. She was gratified to discover that her employer was practical as well as paranoid and scheming.

"I'm a lot stronger than a normal person. You'd need a seriously enchanted blade to cut me. As far as I know, bullets just bounce off, though I can't guarantee that a small enough bullet going fast enough wouldn't do any damage. I'm very fast and my senses are much more acute than a…human's."

Lina caught the catch in his voice there, but ignored it. After all, she was there to get rich, not to play psychologist to every dejected chimera who happened along.

"What about magic? I can feel that you have some, but what kind and do you know how to use it?"

"My specialty is Shamanism, but I can cast a few spells from Black and White."

Lina nodded and grinned. That probably meant he was very good. There weren't many people who could manage any spells out of their respective areas of expertise. Her grin widened as she considered the probable risks of their mission. The prospect of a dangerous adventure with a partner who looked to be competent for a change made her smile ear to ear.

Besides, all this tension was getting on her nerves.

"Alright! This will be fun! Man, are we formidable! We are _so_ going to kick ass, Zel."

The line of rock above his eye raised in inquiry as his countenance lightened into a wry expression of humor that was not quite a smile.

"Zel?"

"Zel," she said firmly.

"Now let's get down to business. You want another cup of coffee while we plan out exactly how we're going to do this, Zel? You look like you could use one." 

The remaining tension drained out of the air as he nodded an affirmative and gave her a tentative half-smile.

Several cups of coffee later, they stepped out of their strategy session with two very clear results. One: Lina was convinced that being a chimera had granted Zelgadis a supernatural tolerance for caffeine. She was positive that no ordinary being could ingest that many cups of coffee that strong (and _black_, no less) and remain _that_ calm (Hell, Lina could barely take one cup herself without getting the jitters. She blamed it all on Luna. Luna had not let her drink coffee at home. She said Lina was jittery enough already.). 

Two: They had a plan. 

Zelgadis had been the one who hit upon it. They had started out just kicking ideas back and forth, the conversation growing more and more complex as they both started to really enjoy themselves. Lina had been delighted to discover that Zel's knowledge of the weird internal twists of magic was just as intimate as her own. Fellow mages were so rare, and the few she had previously encountered had been half-trained at best. She was already plotting to drag him into a few really theory-heavy discussions before her term of employment was up. 

Zelgadis, at this point, was waiting for the other shoe to drop. He didn't have days this good. It went against the laws of nature. Whenever Zelgadis was about to have a good day, tremors raced through the quantum fields, causing possible ways to ruin his day to pile up into big, whopping, probabilities, which in turn piled up into the certainty of yet another lousy twenty-four hour period. By his count, this was actually the best day he'd had in almost a decade. He was caffeinated. He might achieve his goal within the week. He was having a tricky technical conversation on his favorite topic with an actual, personable, human being who had neither screamed bloody murder at the sight of him, nor looked disgusted, nor made his skin crawl (as much as stone was capable of doing so, that is). Something must be seriously wrong with the world. He hoped he didn't look as dazed as he felt.

They were discussing the possibility of scanning the Astral Plane for the distinctive vibrations that a Philosopher's Stone (even an incomplete one) should be throwing out. It seemed the easiest and surest way to find the item, but posed several problems in its execution, the key one being that they would have to search the whole city, a huge amount of space in both physical and astral terms. The amount of energy needed to search that area, even with the two of them working together, would be phenomenal, leaving them both drained for a week. Another problem was that the Astral Plane had its own dangers. Its ecosystem was as complex and perilous as that of the physical realm or more so, and guarding their backs while searching such a vast space was not an appealing prospect. 

That was when Zel had the idea of using the Astral Plane's own wildlife to do the work for them.

Lina crowed and clapped when she heard it. It was simple, elegant, and accurate, and they would be able to break a couple of laws in executing it. Couldn't be more perfect. 

The guard at the park gate eyed them nervously. There was something wrong here, he just knew it. The short, spunky redhead in front of him kind of reminded him of his niece. The guy she was with gave him the creeps, though, all covered up like that. Probably a magic-user. If his niece ever brought home someone like that, neither of the two were going to set foot inside the front door, no sirree. At this moment, his ruminations were interrupted by Lina blowing up in his face.

"What do you mean we can't go in?! Lord of Nightmares, man, it's a public park!"

"Well, you're not allowed to use magic here, and he looks like a magic-user…."

"You dolt! Just because he's a mage doesn't mean he'll actually cast anything!"

Now the guard was starting to get a tad annoyed.

"Look, missy, didn't your mama tell you not to hang around with mages? Can't trust 'em. A nice girl like you should stay away from people like that. Don't be an idiot, kid, just go home already, will ya?"

"Dangerous? _Dangerous?!_ I'll show you dangerous! I'm Lina Inverse, not some 'kid'!"

This guard was asking for a fireballed ass, and she was damn well going to oblige the authority-happy bastard. 

Fortunately for the guard, an abnormally weighty hand on her shoulder prevented the accurate discharge of the quite-sizeable-by-now fireball. The guard quaked. Lina sputtered.

"Zel, you jerk! You ruined my aim!"

"Lina, we really don't need to leave a trail of singed civil servants behind us."

Lina fumed incoherently while Zelgadis approached the indignant and terrified guard.

"You are employed by the city government, correct?"

"Y-yeah…so?"

"And as such are obliged to abide by all city laws?"

"Ummm…"

"Let me answer that for you, as it appears overly taxing: yes." Zelgadis' voice practically dripped sweetened battery acid. "Now, I can give you two very good reasons to let us in without any further disturbance. One: London's charter specifies that one may not bar a free citizen from entering any public domain without a legitimate writ from the guard. Furthermore, the bill passed in January granted mages free citizen status."

The guard snorted. Free citizen or no, a mage was a mage, and if he needed a writ, he could get one _after_ he hauled their freaky asses off to prison.

"Two: If something should happen to you right now, there are no witnesses present."

Zelgadis' voice had gone soft and icy. The guard squeaked a little and got out of their way. Lina resisted the urge to clap. As they swept past the cowering public servant, she stuck her hand out and mouthed, _"Fireba…"_ The dull _thunk_ he made as he hit the ground in a faint was music to her ears.

They finally arrived at a small pond completely devoid of both casual strollers and necking lovers, and Lina cast the spells to mask their presence and seal off the area. It was, she reflected, entirely unfair that the city make the most potent draw point for Shamanistic magic for miles around off a no-magic zone. But, then again, mages were viewed with suspicion at best and outright hostility at worst. The granting of free citizen status had been much more than she had expected, frankly. 

The spells snapped into place and they began to put their plan into action. In principle, it was quite simple. Zelgadis would summon as many of the small Astral spirits as he could and bind them to scatter over the city, tagging each with a small bit of his own magic. Lina would scan the spirits coming back, looking over their make-up for the subtle changes the Philosopher's Stone vibrations should have occasioned in them. It would act as a kind of magical echolocation and leave them with a pretty good idea of where in the city the action would take place. 

Zel now sat by the side of the pond, head bowed and posture relaxed. The faint odor of molten metal suddenly filled the air as perfectly rounded globes of translucent light began to swarm about him, each appearing with a soft, indrawn pop. Soon his figure was almost completely obscured from view by a haze of curiously bobbing spirits. The haze's wavering motion suddenly froze as the scene flickered briefly into an eye-searing negative and returned to normal. Lina smiled. Good. Now every spirit called was marked with Zel's power. The Astral spirits suddenly vanished, streaking away in a shockwave from ground zero (a.k.a. Zelgadis Greywords). He exhaled audibly and motioned to Lina. He'd done his part. Now it was her turn. 

Zelgadis slipped out of the Astral with relief, leaving the barest tendril of his consciousness tapped into it, just enough to guard Lina's back while she scanned. The Astral Plane always unnerved him. The longer he spent there the less human he felt. The Mazoku bloodlust, never completely absent, rose to the fore, made all the deadlier by the sudden dominance of the chill rationality imparted to him by the golem element, normally relegated to the edges of his mind. The human side of him dwindled, grimly determined to remain in control and not be intimidated by his own frightening alien-ness. Humans were not meant to walk the Astral Plane. Mazoku were natives and golems were partially powered with astral energy. No, Zelgadis did not at all enjoy extended visits to the Astral. 

He felt a flicker of…Lina-ness, for lack of a better word…brush across the edges of his awareness. Good. She must have started her scan. Those little Astral spirits he had summoned and impressed were the fastest things he had ever encountered. By now Lina ought to be getting results. 

Sure enough, within a few moments Lina disappeared from the Astral, and with relief Zelgadis completed his own disappearing act. Lina took a deep breath and opened her eyes.

"Well?"

"Found it. It's somewhere in that block of warehouses by the dockyards."

"Good work. Tomorrow we'll pin it down."

Lina bristled at that. She was _Lina__ Inverse_. Who did he think he was to take that tone with her? Of_ course_ she did good work. She had half a mind to fireball him right then and there, no matter that it would blow their cover, keeping hidden was not nearly as important as blasting arrogant jerks who tried to lord it over her…

But, if she blasted him, she'd probably never see the Philosopher's Stone. Damn. As soon as she got her hands on it, she was splitting, screw him, employer or not, she wasn't putting up with his goddamn supercilious attitude.

Zelgadis watched Lina carefully out of the corner of his eye. She looked distinctly pissed. So he opened his mouth and said:

"Lina? I've heard some stories about you. If you should decide that the Philosopher's Stone would be better off in your possession, I would recommend you write your last will and testament before taking decisive action. I'll meet you tomorrow, same time and place. Have a nice day." 

For once in her life, Lina was left speechless as he stalked out of the park.

_"Have a nice day?!"_

That…that…that…BASTARD!!! 

**_"FIREBALL!!!!"_****__**

            Zelgadis high-tailed it out of there at demon speed as soon as he heard Lina draw in that deep breath. No, the rumors of her temper definitely weren't exaggerated. He allowed himself a smirk under the mask. Without a potent draw point like the (former) park, no one was going to be finding the Philosopher's Stone that way again. 

At the sight of the wall of pulsating magically fed fire racing towards him, the gate-guard, who had just recently regained consciousness, vowed to get out of civil service and ground his niece for life just as soon as he got home.


	3. Fight or Flight

Disclaimer: I do not own Lina, Zelgadis, or Slayers. Don't sue. Hit the Ground Running Chapter Three 

            If you had been idly wandering the streets near Lina's apartment in the twilit gloom of early morning, you might have expected to see nothing more than the oblong black and gray zebra-stripes of a city in half-dark, ghostly with the perfect immobility of insubstantial architecture. If you had looked more closely, however, you might have seen this: smaller shadows floating, flitting, hidden and furtive. Along they scurry, skating at the edges of puddles of light. They project an aura of mystery and danger, for their business is covert and the risks perilous beyond telling. 

These are the few…the proud…the oppressed.

            But soon they shall be oppressed no longer. No more shall they labor thanklessly as faceless victims of a vicious scourge. No more the corvée, the fearful toil that makes fingers raw red twigs, vertebrae a painful gauntlet, and motion a thousand agonies. No more shall they suffer the brutal consequences of noble failure to fulfill impossible demands. No, **_today_** they take action, **_today_** they turn the tables, **_today_** the CAWUAT will have its revenge!

            …And what, you may ask, is the CAWUAT?

            That's simple. It's an acronym. A very nice one too, or at least so think its inventors.

            **C**hefs **A**nd **W**aitpersons **U**nited **A**gainst **T**yranny.

            Zelgadis was waiting at the back table when Lina stalked into the café, still smoldering. She fell into the chair and gave him a gimlet-eyed gaze. He sipped his coffee. Lina stared, glared, glowered and evil-eyed. Zelgadis, to all appearances, remained unperturbed. Lina took a deep breath. Zelgadis looked up. His eyes widened and he clapped his hands over his sensitive ears and dove for cover with all the considerable haste he could muster. 

Then all hell broke loose.

Or Lina threw a temper tantrum. 

Whatever you want to call it.

Out of consideration for her still-empty stomach, she took care not to burn down the café in the process of attempting to burn down Zelgadis.

Liberation Army Soldier Number 114 (Reconnaissance and Infiltration Unit) stealthily approached The Enemy. True to form, The Oppressor was currently engaged in the torture and humiliation of an Innocent. Soldier Number 114 felt her cup overflow as her heart swelled in pity for the tormented victim. _No more_, she vowed to herself, _no more shall I permit this base cruelty. Have no fear, for thou shalt be delivered posthaste._ As the reader may have guessed, Liberation Army Soldier Number 114 read far too many penny-dreadfuls and was an enthusiastic aspiring Shakespearian actress, albeit a rather inept one. This, however, mattered not, for her heart was pure. With these noble sentiments then, Soldier Number 114 made the first bold gesture against The Tyrant:

"Hello, my name is Sarah and I'll be your waitress today. Are you ready to order, sir, ma'am?"

At the waitress' trembling intrusion, Lina paused in chewing out Zel and turned to order. Zel contrived to look relieved under the mask as he lifted his hands from his painfully ringing ears and patted out a fire on the edge of his cloak. Lina shot him a glare before preparing to rattle off a string of entrees to make sure he knew he wasn't off the hook. It was simply that when it came down to priorities, food took a higher place on the list than Zelgadis. So Lina named a dozen or so items to whet her appetite.

"Will that be all, miss?"

"No, actually, I'd also like a…"

At this, the waitress let out a bloodcurdling wail, and while Lina and Zelgadis sat stupefied at this apparent descent into utter insanity, raised her pad and pen in a dashing martial pose, and yelled out:

"GET HER BOYS! FOR FREEDOM AND LIBERTY  

CHAAAAAAAAARGE!" 

At these fateful words, a mighty rumbling erupted from behind the tightly sealed

doors marked "Employees Only," which soon burst asunder under the onslaught of an army of busboys, dishwashers, cooks, and wait staff, all armed to the teeth with the various implements of their professions and screaming fearsome war cries to the high heavens. An awe-inspiring sight indeed, felt Soldier Number 114, the very image of Justice Provoked to Righteous Wrath. 

Lina and Zelgadis, however, were not there to be inspired, having run like hell some time ago. 

            "Does this happen to you often?"

"Shut up and run, smart-ass."

Both Lina and Zelgadis were doing just that at the moment, Lina energetically puffing and panting, and Zelgadis smugly loping along beside her. He hadn't touched the speed his demon side gave him and so was not tired in the least. Running that fast tended to attract attention. And Zelgadis hated attention. Besides, he was fairly sure Lina would fireball him out of sheer frustration if he sped off and left her eating his dust. Come to think of it….

"Why don't you just fireball them?"

"Because I'm a mature and responsible person. I don't solve all my problems with violence."

"So you incinerated the park accidentally?"

_It would probably be wise not to call attention to that incident,_ whispered the side of him that did not at all like living dangerously.

"Shut up! I can't roast waitresses, alright? My friggin' scary big sister's a waitress. She'd kill me."

Of course, if the situation got any worse, she might just have to suffer Luna's terrifying wrath. She risked a glance over her shoulder.

"Shit! Move it, Zel, they're gaining on us!"

Indeed, the urge to do grievous bodily harm to Lina seemed to have given wings to the Liberation Army's feet. They raced forward in a hungry surging swarm, inexorable and ground-eating as the sea. Zelgadis looked back over his own shoulder, and realized there was no help for it. If they kept at the present speed (which already seemed to be pushing the limits of Lina's short-legged sprint) the rabble would be on them in less than a minute. So he wordlessly reached out with one hand, grabbed Lina's waist, threw her unceremoniously over his shoulder, and turned the demon speed all the way up. 

The Liberation Army howled and picked up its pace, some of the more portly chefs falling by the sidelines.

            The first thing Lina did after she got over the shock of having been slung around like a sack of potatoes was hit Zelgadis as hard as she could where she estimated his kidney should be. This hurt her much more than it hurt him, as there are distinct advantages to having stone skin. The second thing she did after regaining her breath was to do what came naturally.

"WHERE THE HELL DO YOU GET OFF PICKING ME UP LIKE THAT? PUT ME _DOWN_, YOU ASSHOLE!"

They broke out of the dank street Zelgadis had been sprinting through into a broad plaza, the Liberation Army (now down to a core group of very, very athletic members) trailing exhaustedly behind. Zelgadis was astounded that they had managed to keep up as well as they had. He was running so fast that the buildings at his sides had blurred into an indistinguishable mass of color. It shouldn't be humanly possible. 

But then again, Zelgadis knew very well just how strong a motivating force the desire for vengeance could be. 

Now that Zelgadis had reached an open space through which he could run unimpeded, the Liberation Army had no chance in hell of catching up. Most of their members were already collapsed in panting puddles of sweat along the wayside. Those who remained huddled in a semi-liquid state themselves, watching resentfully as Zelgadis and Lina streaked across the square in a black and red blur. The CAWUAT Liberation Army was beaten and they knew it. So they did the only thing a defeated army _can_ do: They called down curses on the enemy. 

"Insatiable fiend!"

"Demon!"

"Enemy to all who live!"

"Hellspawn!"

The morning crowd at the central plaza had been bustling unconcernedly about its business. Elderly matrons haggled over chickens and lengths of woolen thread, and younger matrons fought to keep their children in line. A squabble between two young women had broken out over an especially expensive swath of lace. Butchers, bakers, clothiers, and trinket-sellers hawked their wares. A large group of young men huddled in front of the postings of the latest race results, a few cursing and a few crowing in delight, but all going off to the betting stalls afterwards. A couple of pickpockets lounged in the shadows, waiting for the chance to relieve some unwary gentleman of his wallet. 

When an ominously black-cloaked man carrying a kicking, squealing redhead came crashing through the happy chaos of the marketplace at an impossible speed, followed by a worn out lynch mob yelling something about demons, the crowd came to the only conclusion it could. A grabbing hand pulled down the hood of the black-cloaked man to reveal a face that could never pass for human and the Liberation Army watched in dismay as their "demon" was rescued from the clutches of the real thing. 

Zelgadis cursed with great creativity and fluency in every language he knew, dead ones included, as he felt someone yank Lina (also cursing) off his shoulder. This was not good, not good at all. He was hemmed in by an angry crowd intent on doing him serious damage, and it was only a matter of time before they found out that although blades might not cut him, his head could be bashed in and his bones broken just as well as anyone else's. It would take considerably more effort of course, but the mob looked quite determined. If he fought back, he would wind up killing some of them and there would be police patrols out for him for the next several months. At any other time he might have considered risking it anyway, but not now, not when he was so close to the Philosopher's Stone. His best bet, he glumly concluded, was to hope he could survive the beating long enough to get thrown in jail. He could always escape from jail.

Damn.

Lina screamed in rage and ducked away from the motherly woman and the Farmer John look-alike who had been comforting the "poor little thing" after her "rescue." Dammit, she had to get to Zelgadis. The concerned townsfolk (the idiots!) had borne her across the plaza from the site of the main commotion. By now what had started out as a fairly usual mob had grown to a fair-to-middling sized riot, and the square was packed wall-to-wall with bodies. By jumping as high as she could, Lina could just barely see the sun glinting off Zel's hair. She took a sighting in that direction and dived back into the morass of humanity to attempt to claw her way through. Spells in a furious, frightened crowd like this would be idiocy. Though she might escape unscathed if she were fast enough, having the entire city hunting for her was not an appealing prospect. By dint of liberally applied elbowing and foot-stomping, Lina fought her way to the mob's edge, arriving just in time to see a hefty petunia-filled stone urn crash into the back of Zelgadis' head. To hell with caution, this was bad. He collapsed to his knees and Lina began a fireball. The sphere of flame had just appeared in her palm and begun to grow when the guard arrived on the scene. Zelgadis was dragged away by two guardsmen, and with much shoving and yelling of "Go home!" "Be about your business!" "Nothing to see here!" the mob was dispersed. Lina was left at the end of the now-quiet plaza, wondering "What now?"

Well, Zelgadis was out of the way now. She knew where the Philosopher's Stone was (more or less) and with a head start, she could get it long before he did and disappear into thin air until he stopped looking for it. The prospect was mind-boggling. She, Lina Inverse, already the most powerful black magic user to have surfaced for generations, the sorceress supreme, could have a Philosopher's Stone, the most powerful and most useful magical artifact there was, _all to herself_. With that kind of an amplifier, she'd be almost invincible. Hell, with that, she could cast Dragon Slave after Dragon Slave after Dragon Slave after Dragon Slave…. Maybe she could even throw _Nightmare_ magic around like normal spells!

….

….

….

Aw, hell, who was she kidding? Zelgadis wasn't such a bad guy. Stuck-up and a bit of a smart-ass, but not bad. Not that being a smart-ass was all that bad either. In terms of intelligence and wit, it certainly put him worlds ahead of some of the people Lina had had to deal with. Naga for one. Besides, he was paying her, wasn't he?

Right. Things to do tonight: Break Zel out of prison. 

AN – Ah, crap, I suck at these things. Never know what the hell to say. You guys who reviewed, thanks. You made my day. Hell, you guys who just read it, thanks. I'm glad you're enjoying it, and I will do my best to improve the caliber of writing as it goes along. 

deleria – New chapter ought to be coming soon, if I can ever re-establish contact with my beta-reader. 

Karris – Thank you for the compliments. London is fun to write because it requires a minimum of historical accuracy – now mind you, the accuracy ain't too hot here, but I think I got parts of it right at least. In any event, researching the niggly details that come to mind is entertaining.

Poetry in Motion – I'm flattered. Characterization is always the part I worry most about. Hopefully it won't crash in the last chapter or sag along the way.

Anyway, read it, read something else, have fun, do whatever the hell you want! Go on, now! Shoo! Y'know… carpe diem baby…and all that.


	4. Jailbreaking for Fun, Profit, and Justic...

Disclaimer: I do not own Lina, Zelgadis, or Slayers. Don't sue. Hit the Ground Running Chapter Four 

Zelgadis ground his teeth and wished futilely that his fingernails could do enough damage to his palms to distract him from the white-hot pain ripping up and down his spine. He hadn't known they had a demon ward. It was not a reasonable expectation. It took a white mage of considerable skill to construct a semi-permanent one like this. Zelgadis was willing to bet he knew exactly who had done this particular one. He supposed it only made sense. If the city was going to shell out for a demon ward in the first place, why not get the best? Still, he was surprised. Rezo's services did not come cheap. He hadn't anticipated this at all. If he had, he might have taken his chances with the mob. After all, the other times he'd been here he hadn't seen any evidence of a ward. 

But then again, why should he have seen it? Back then he hadn't been a chimera. 

If he had been anything other than what he was, a whole creature instead of the fusion of three separate ones, the ward would not have caused him such complete agony. If he had been human it would not have affected him at all. Had he been a golem, it might have served to keep him confined, but would not have caused him pain. If he were entirely Mazoku, well, it would still be torture, but at least he'd be enjoying it. __

_Damn you to the blackest pits of hell, Rezo._

Tensing his shoulders against the pain he was sure movement would inflame, Zelgadis hauled himself into a sitting position so he could lean against the wall and studied his hands. If he held them perfectly still, he could almost imagine they were false, just the hands of a statue that his real hands clasped from within his sleeves. They suddenly clenched shut as an especially strong wave of pain broke over him, and the illusion was shattered. They were still his hands, corpse-blue and littered with rock shards over the wrists and knuckles. Ignoring the pain dancing inside his joints, he suddenly turned and meditatively swung one at the wall behind him with all his strength. The resounding crack of rock on rock met his ears and he brought back the hand to examine it. Every so often Zelgadis would succumb to the urge to do that, in the vain hope that if he did it hard enough, the stone skin would shatter and he'd be human underneath. He turned the hand over. Nothing. A small chip in one of the rocks over his knuckles. It would probably be healed in under an hour. He could thank the Mazoku side for that. 

The demon ward's ever-present glow throbbed, and Zelgadis did his best to keep from involuntarily fisting his hands. __

To be reduced to this. 

Confined and incapacitated by a _demon ward_. 

He was trapped. There was no way he could get out of this one. And consequently, there was no way he would be able to get to the Philosopher's Stone before Rezo. 

Fate does have a sense of humor. It finds circular logic especially funny. Zelgadis wasn't human. Therefore he couldn't escape. Therefore he couldn't obtain the Philosopher's Stone. Therefore he couldn't be human. 

Zelgadis closed his eyes and settled in for yet another long bout of festering anger and self-loathing. 

At roughly the same point in time at which Zelgadis was absorbed in a rather vitriolic internal diatribe, Lina was thoroughly occupied with the task of distracting the night watchman. Subtle hadn't worked. A pebble cast in the guard's direction had done nothing but make him yawn. This particular watchman apparently had no human decency to appeal to. When confronted with Lina at her most cute and innocent, sweetly lamenting the fact that she was lost, the watchman had not offered to guide her home, but had just grunted something that sounded an awful lot like "Beat it, kid." And Lina _knew_ she was too flat for the "feminine wiles" approach to work. 

So what now? Lina was at something of a loss. This kind of furtive, tricky, sneaking-around-at-night sort of thing was a real pain in the ass. On the whole, she preferred jobs with more excitement. Violence was a definite plus, too. 

Ah, to hell with it. Sometimes the direct approach is best.

This being the middle of a large city, there were no good-sized rocks lying about, but there was a nicely potted chrysanthemum on the porch of the house across the street that ought to do just as well. With the aid of Lina's silent Levitation spell, it quivered and then lifted straight up off the step in a fairly credible impression of a UFO take-off. At around thirty feet or so off the ground, it halted its ascent and moved to position itself precisely over the watchman's bald spot. Then Lina released the spell. With a loud crash and a muffled grunt, the guard crumpled up into an uncomfortable sitting position, a few flowers drooping forlornly over his nose. Seizing the opportunity, Lina hopped over his legs and scurried inside the gate leading to the prison yard. She was at the main entrance when a shout and the sound of pounding footsteps halted her. She spun around on her heel and saw a figure bending over the huddled form of the man she'd downed. 

_Oh, damn, there's another one. _

The watchman unhooded his lantern and stepped inside the gate, nightstick at the ready. 

"Halt, intruder! Stand where you are in the name of Justice! How dare you besmirch this hallowed Sanctuary of Righteousness with your unlawful misdeeds?"

Lina blinked. The voice was young, female, and … perky. And "Justice?" "Sanctuary of Righteousness?" That wasn't something you heard every day. Maybe there was hope yet for doing this quietly.

"Come out slowly where I can see you."

Lina did so. The guard was revealed to be a girl with bright black hair, presently gaping at Lina with the befuddled expression of a person who has just experienced two thought-trains colliding messily.

"Miss! What are you doing here?"

The girl's eyes got a little teary.

"And how could you hit poor Mr. Tom on the head like that? He didn't do anything to you! It was a very Unjust thing to do!"

_There's that Justice thing again._

"Uh…I'm here in the name of Justice! My friend has been wrongfully imprisoned…"

"…and you're here to rescue him? Oh, that's so beautiful! You must be a true Champion of Love and Justice, Miss…um…?"

Now Love was in on it too?

"Lina."

"Miss Lina. I'm Amelia Sailune."

"Right. So can I pass, Amelia?"

"Um…I'm not really supposed to let anyone in…but if it's to right an Injustice and I come with you, I'm sure it'll be alright!"

_Damn!_

"That's alright, Amelia, you don't have to come. You can just…patrol, or something."

"Nonsense! How can I allow an Injustice to go unaddressed? Come on, Miss Lina, let's go rescue your poor friend in the name of…"

"…Love and Justice. I know, I know."

Amelia had taken Lina to the temporary holding cells prisoners were assigned before receiving an official sentence. The occasional sleepily patrolling warden was easily disposed of by a cheerfully bubbling Amelia's assurances. When they reached the hall holding the recently captured prisoners, Lina directed Amelia to stand guard at the entrance and turn away all comers while she checked for Zel. Classic dungeon, all the way. The puny lantern lights sputtered and flickered in the steady drips of a poorly repaired roof, and the floor was zigzagged with the shadows of barred doors. Lina tiptoed her way through the corridor, cautiously inspecting each cell and praying to the Lord of Nightmares with all her might that none of the inmates were awake at this gruesome hour. At every room she cautiously edged her way into view and then, upon hearing no footsteps or war cries, thoroughly inspected the little space for signs of life. Most of the cells held snoring prisoners. A few were empty. None, however, held Zelgadis. 

Now Lina was worried. Where could he be? Could she have somehow broken into the wrong prison? 

Emerging from the dank tunnel, she turned to Amelia.

"Amelia, is there anywhere else he could be? He's not in here."

"But Miss Lina! Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure!"

"But…the only other place that has prisoners who haven't been sentenced yet is the high-security area, and that's only for the ones who've committed violent crimes…. Miss Lina, are you _sure_ this is a mission of Love and Justice?"

"Of course it is! He's been wrongfully imprisoned, you twit! The only reason he's in jail now is probably because he _didn't _do something violent!"

"Ow! Miss Lina, you shouldn't hit people like that!"

Amelia led her back out to the main part of the jail and pointed to a trapdoor marked "Keep Out" wedged firmly under the creaking leg of a guard's chair. 

That could make things difficult. 

Lina gave said guard a quick once-over. His head rolled onto his right shoulder, mouth hanging loosely open, and his legs were crossed and firmly embedded in the paperwork covering the desk. The back legs of his chair shuddered and groaned piteously under his weight, and every once in a while a mumble would escape him. No, there was absolutely no way in heaven or hell that Lina, at a scrawny 5'2" (in her boots) was going to be able to shift him without waking him up, even with Amelia's erstwhile help. She was going to have to put him out of commission and then shove the chair off the trap door. But how to do it? There were no handy flowerpots in here, and Lina's fist wasn't going to do much good against a skull that thick. 

Ah-ha. Here we go.

WHACK!!!

"Miss Lina!"

The guard only had time for a brief and perplexing view of a redhead triumphantly brandishing a boot before he succumbed to the pain in his temple. Problem solved.

"Wait here Amelia, while I go find him."

A flick of her wrist and the deadbolt was off and the trap door open. Lina chuckled contentedly and launched herself down the newly uncovered stairs. 

Yeah, this was high security, all right. There were at least three separate locks on the heavily barred door immediately to Lina's left, and she could feel a huge amount of free-floating magic down here. An Unlock spell wasn't going to do anything to those babies. Hell, even a Fireball might be ineffective. It would be like trying to drown a mermaid. The doors were too well adapted to a magical environment to respond to anything but a fairly large outpouring of magical power. Crap. That meant she was going to have to go with Plan B.

"Hey Amelia! Do you have the keys for these?"

"No Miss Lina! Only Daddy has those!"

"Your father?"

"He's the captain of the guard."

Lina could just hear the beaming pride in Amelia's voice. No wonder she was so big on Justice.

 Alright, then. Plan C. Do it the old-fashioned way. Damn. Oh well. She could worry about that when she found Zel. 

Now, where exactly was he? 

Something glowed at the end of the hall. Lina jubilantly headed off toward it. That was probably a good place to begin looking. If Lina had learned one thing in life, it was that Shiny equals either: 

    a.) Money.

    b.) Expensive stuff that can be hocked.

Or: 

    c.) Magic. 

Lina loved Shinies.

Sadly enough, down here A and B were a slim chance at best, but Shiny Item C was a good possibility. Zelgadis had oodles of Shiny Item C. And if the guard had also guessed him to be a Mazoku, there would probably be an even heavier magical guard on his cell that on the others she had seen. 

So Lina hurried down the dank tunnel as quickly as she dared, trying to make as little noise as possible. The glow turned out to have its source in the cell furthest from the entrance on the left. The door was sealed with a massive, highly formidable looking iron lock. The gently pulsing white light that Lina had spotted shone from the runes that comprised the outer circle of a demon ward painted on the floor stones. At the far end of the cell sat Zelgadis, head down and arms and legs loosely crossed. 

"Pssst! Zel! Zelgadis! Hey!"

"…Lina? What are you doing here?"

"Shouldn't it be obvious? Getting you out. I'm not about to leave you in the lurch."

Zelgadis was silent. __

"Besides, you still owe me 1500 pounds."

_Ah. No wonder. _

"Dammit!" 

Zelgadis glanced over at Lina, who was mumbling obscenities as she fumbled with a set of lockpicks. That lock was a nasty, nasty thing to pick.

"You'll probably need to use a larger pick to hold the big tumblers up."

"Hey! No smart comments unless you can do better! I'm trying to help, here!"

Zelgadis snorted in a decidedly depreciative manner. The demon ward had not done much to improve his normally surly disposition. Lina raised a speculative eyebrow.

"_Can_ you do better?"

"Yes."

"Then stop being a pain in the ass, and get your butt over here." 

"…I can't. Demon ward."

"A demon ward affects you?" Lina looked closer and saw that although his hands were tightly clenched, they trembled. As she watched, a brief flicker of white light scintillated across him and they jerked and were barely restrained from convulsive movement. No wonder his voice had sounded strange.

"Ah, geeze, Zel. I'm sorry. I should have known. Hold on a minute."

Lina pulled her cloak off, and wiped it along the dripping, filthy stone wall. In short order, she had converted one corner of it into a serviceable mop, albeit a rather grungy one. By poking it through the cell's bars with her sheathed rapier and dragging it along the floor, she was able to erase a rune and open a gap in the white-painted spell circle. As she scrubbed, the enchantment's glow flickered manically. When the last fleck of paint left the stones, the light flared brilliantly once and vanished abruptly. Zelgadis quietly released the breath he had been holding, got up, winced, and limped his way over to the door, where he silently held his hand out for the picks, which Lina gladly handed over.  

Zelgadis knelt down, selected a lockpick, inserted it, and began a thorough investigation of the lock's ponderous innards. 

"These picks yours?"

Lina looked smug. 

"Nah. I just beat up muggers until I found one who had a set on him."

Zelgadis snorted. 

"I thought you didn't solve your problems with violence."

Lina _growled_. Zelgadis hastily ducked his head and rummaged for another lockpick. This was getting tricky. Using the thicker pick to hold up a large tumbler, he inserted the smaller one and began to poke the other tumblers into place. Lina watched him, fascinated.

"Say, Zel, you're pretty good at that."

At that moment, there was a minute click and Zelgadis pushed the door open.

"Let's go." 

 Lina needed no further encouragement. Together they quietly made their way to the exit and climbed up.

Amelia chattered in cheerful full gush, trying desperately to keep Mr. Bill engaged enough not to notice that Mr. Fred's deep unconsciousness was occasioned not by long hours and a hearty dinner, but rather by a large lump over his ear. So far he was buying it, and having a grand time endearing himself to his captain's daughter, but he was staying right here when he really needed to go away so Miss Lina and her friend wouldn't get caught. 

At that precise moment, Mr. Bill abruptly ceased his grumbling against the poor quality of the Drunken Abbot's shepherd's pie in mid-sentence and stared fixedly at the spot over Amelia's shoulder at which the trapdoor should lie. Fearing the worst, Amelia turned around in time to see the first locks of Miss Lina's brilliant coppery hair hove into view and have her fears confirmed. 

Anyone spying on Amelia's thoughts during the split second between that sight and what happened next would have been treated to something like this: 

_Oh no! What can I do?_

_…_

_I can't do that! Mr. Bill's a friend!_

_But Miss Lina is fighting for Justice…even if she does seem rather violent…_

_But…but….___

_Ohhh__…_

_I suppose I have to. Justice must prevail!_

And with that fateful decision, Amelia leapt into action.

"AAAAIIIIEEE!!! THE DEMON IS ESCAPING! RUN, MR. BILL, RUN! SOUND THE ALARM! GOD SAVE THE KING!!!"

The unfortunate Bill leapt back in alarm, only to be dealt a sound uppercut as Amelia flung an arm out in a pose that would have done Lady Justice proud. His eyes crossed neatly, and he dropped into a dazed heap slumped up against the wall. Amelia regarded her handiwork with the warm, happy feeling that she knew in her heart of hearts could only be the result of the correct implementation of the Hammer of Justice, and was just about to strike a dramatic victory pose to round it off, when a hand clamped down on her shoulder and spun her around to face a very malevolent-looking Lina Inverse. 

"Eep!"

"HEY! What do you mean calling me a demon?! How dare you imply such a thing about Lina Inverse?! I'll have you know there is _no_ Mazoku in _my_ family tree, you…"

Fortunately for Amelia, at this opportune moment, Fate manifested itself in the person of a rather disgruntled Zelgadis, who tapped on Lina's shoulder and interrupted her tirade with a caustic observation.

"I think she meant me, Lina."

"Eh? Oh. Yeah. That's right. Forgot about that. Sorry there, Amelia."

Amelia stared and then wailed.

"Miss Lina! How could you?! You said you were on a mission of Love and Justice! How could you release the demon?"

"See?"

"Shut up, Zel. Look, Amelia, if he were a demon, why wouldn't he have just teleported himself out of there when the guard showed up?" 

"The Minions of Evil can never be underestimated."

In the end, Amelia was convinced that they were, after all, allies of Love and Justice, more thanks to Zelgadis' sarcastic commentary and distinctly un-Mazoku-like frustration at the delay than to Lina's bombastic arguments. The disappearance of so notable a prisoner as Zelgadis would not remain unnoticed long, so it was agreed that after leading them out as unobtrusively as possible, Amelia would give them a quarter of an hour to get away before sounding the alarm. Any protestations of wrong timing made by Bill and Fred could be put down to disorientation resulting from the demon's assault upon their person. 

As luck would have it, their exit from the prison was fairly quiet, occasioning only two more unconscious guards, neither of who was aware of Amelia's presence. (They had taken to going down the halls with Zelgadis in the lead, followed shortly by Lina, with Amelia directing them from the tail end of the procession to lend credence to the story of Zelgadis' daring solo rampage.) At the side-gate the guards used, Amelia bid them farewell.

"Goodbye Miss Lina! Mr. Zelgadis! Be careful! And remember to let Justice light the way!"

"Uh…yeah, Amelia. You too."

Amelia waved to them from the doorway until they turned a corner.

"…'Justice?'"

"Yeah. I don't know either. But, hey, you take whatever help you can get in that kind of a situation."

"…Who _was_ she?"

"The daughter of the captain of the guard."

"Oh."

And with that, they moved with all possible haste to put as much distance between themselves and the prison as they could before Amelia rang the alarm.

 "You hear anyone coming?"

"No. They'll be out in force soon though." 

"Well, at least you're out."

They walked silently through twisting, quiet streets, making their circuitous way to the area in which Lina lived. In the distance they could hear the pounding toll of the grand alarm bell and muffled shouting. Once or twice they heard a search party a couple of streets over, but no one came down their alley. 

"…Give me your cloak, Lina."

Lina blinked.

"What? One edge is all slimy and wet, you know."

"…"

Zelgadis just held out his hand. With a sigh, Lina handed it over and watched him hastily draw the hood up. 

"You know that absolutely no one is going to see us unless we run into a patrol? And if we do, well, they already know what you look like."

"…."

Zelgadis drew the hood a little tighter. 

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Zel! This is ridiculous! Just think of it as the world's worst case of acne!" 

Zelgadis had had a stressful day. He had been chased, beaten, arrested, and confined in a demon ward. Now here was Lina, doing her merry best to add insult to injury.

For a moment, the dangerous, brooding pre-storm silence hovered over him.  

"Acne. You think this miserable condition is somehow like a bad case of _acne?_ People do not _riot_ over acne. _Acne_ does not necessitate complete and total withdrawal from human society. _Acne_ would not preclude me from making an honest living. This is _nothing at all_ like acne. _Acne_ is trivial and superficial. _This_ is not. _Acne_ might make people cringe sympathetically. This…_affliction_ makes them try to kill me. _Acne_ is… " 

"Ack! Alright, alright, I'm sorry! I take it back - chimeric transmogrification is not at all similar to acne in any respect whatsoever! Ok?"

"…."

Silence. Zelgadis sulked icily, and Lina contemplated the stillness. Not particularly surprising when only Zelgadis was available for conversation. Not that she minded. Although on the whole she preferred loud noise and bustle – something with some zip and energy to it, you know? – she could still appreciate quiet. After all, as a wise man once said, without the dark, there cannot be light and without evil, there cannot be good. Similarly, without dead calm, there can be no kaboom. More than that, though, the silence was nice in a way. Everything seemed cleaner in the absence of noise, the cobblestones solemnly and comfortingly rounded, like the backs of small turtles pushing their way up through the London mud, and the shadows edges perfectly etched, an opaquely twisted mirror of the city. Beautiful in its precision and clarity. Suddenly a thought struck her and she again turned to Zelgadis.

"Hey, Zel? Are you going to be okay with those patrols out?"

"I've got a room at an inn. I'll be fine."

"Have you got anywhere else you can stay? After they finish sweeping the streets, the first thing they're going to do is knock on the door of every tavern and hostel and ask for suspicious characters. And, as I believe I've already told you, that hood and mask get-up of yours is hardly inconspicuous."

Zelgadis scowled. 

"And how would you know that's what they'll do?"

"Look, once you've blown up as many things as I have, you get to know how to be a successful fugitive. Now, can you go somewhere else or not?"

"I'll be fine."

Lina rolled her eyes and snorted.

"Right. I'll take that as a 'No, I don't, but I'll wander the streets and dodge guards for the rest of the night rather than admit that you might have a point.'"

"…."

"That's what I thought. Look, you can crash on the couch at my place for a while, ok?"

"What? No, you don't have to do that. I'll be fine."

"You realize that's the third time you've said that? Don't worry about it. It's the most practical solution. We'd have to meet somewhere tomorrow anyway, and the café is obviously out."

"…Thanks." 

"No problem."  

Silence finally having won the battle against the sporadic conversation, thanks to the tactical advantage of two very tired conversationalists, Lina and Zelgadis trudged, plodded, and stumbled their way home, where Lina promptly collapsed on her bed, and Zelgadis thankfully did likewise on Lina's sturdily built couch. Both were soon lost to the world, minds spinning weightlessly in the welcome oblivion of sleep. 


	5. Unpleasant Discoveries

I do not own Lina, Zelgadis, or Slayers.

Hit the Ground Running  
  


Chapter Five  
  
  
Zelgadis' eyes snapped open. In under a second, he reached under the couch he lay on for his sword and sprang into position to skewer whatever it was that was making that hideous howling. As he scanned the unfamiliar room for threats, said howling resolved itself into an exceedingly original concoction of profanity, relating somehow or other to a nightstand. That pitch of voice seemed familiar.  
  
Oh. Right. He was in Lina's apartment. That went a long way towardsexplaining why he had had to reach under a _couch_ to get his sword. With a sigh and a groan, Zelgadis sank back down on the couch and put down the sword in favor of holding his head in both hands. It was too damn early.  
  
Lina yawned in between curses and dealt the nightstand a final vicious kick. Man was she tired. When had she gone to bed? She wasn't really too sure, but she seemed to remember hearing the bell toll four before she fell asleep. Oog. Having thusly exhausted all of her immediately available mental power, Lina gave up thinking altogether for the next few minutes as she stumbled through her morning routine. Upon completing this she trudged out into the main part of the apartment with another cavernous yawn. As she entered the living room, the first thing she saw was Zelgadis, seated on the couch with his head in his hands, looking about as wiped as she felt.  
  
"Coffee?" she croaked. Zel looked up blearily and gave a singleemphatic nod in answer. Lina moved to the kitchen, Zelgadis silently trailing in her footsteps and they stood dumbly waiting for the water to boil.  
  
The beverage was drunk in similar silence. After one cup, Lina was feeling more human, and Zelgadis was feeling...well, at any rate, he now felt rather more alive than he had before. In fact, Lina felt well enough to worry about her breakfast, and Zelgadis felt well enough to worry over the next stage of their venture. Predictably enough, Lina's more immediate concern won out.  
  
In short order, they were seated at a restaurant a significant distance away from the cafe wherein presumably still dwelt the CAWUAT. Lina ordered everything on the menu, whereupon the waitress went bug-eyed and Zelgadis winced and dug around in his pocket dimension for extra money. The enormous order was devoured with the speed and efficiency normally reserved for tornados, whirlpools, and mythological creatures. At the end, all that was left of the disaster was a stack of dirty plates and Lina leaning back in her chair to contentedly pat her stomach.  
  
"Ahhh, that was good. Ok, Zel, strategy meeting is in session. Today we case those warehouses, right?"  
  
"Yes. That delay will have cost us, though. By now whatever mages weren't sidelined by your convenient destruction of the park will have..."  
  
"'My convenient destruction of the park?' Wait a minute...you ticked me off on purpose?"  
  
"Um...yes."  
  
_ "Why?"_  
  
Oh, Zelgadis did not like this at all. The entire room seemed to have darkened. Lina's hair was doing its best to make like Medusa and he could almost hear her eyes crackling with electrical fury. This was going to hurt.  
  
Crap.  
  
_ Maybe if I explain it logically she'll see the reasoning and just maim me._  
  
"The method we used was probably the fastest and most efficient way to find the Stone. I can think of a couple of other ways to do it, but they would be much more difficult and take quite a bit longer. Since you got rid of the draw point, nobody else was able to use that particular method and we'll be spared some of the competition."  
  
Lina, unfortunately for Zelgadis, was not listening to reason. Thunder boomed over her side of the table. The purity of the rage pouring off of her made the Mazoku side of him hungry. It made the rest of him want to hide   
under the table. He was pretty sure the human and the golem had it right. Mazoku, being immortal, had no survival instinct.  
  
"You...you...ARGH!"  
  
It is completely pointless to transcribe the next hour or so, mostly because there truly are no words capable of fully describing the wrath of Lina Inverse. Suffice to say that this undescribed period of time mostly consists of Lina casting a number of highly dangerous spells, making matchwood of the restaurant and the nearby shops. What was left at the end of the destruction was a still (figuratively) fuming Lina and a still (literally) smoking Zelgadis sitting in the small crater at the center of the wreckage.  
  
"Never, ever, _ever_ do anything like that again."  
  
Zelgadis nodded meekly and privately resolved that if he ever did do anything like that again, he was going to make very, very sure he was hidden somewhere well on the other side of the world when Lina found out. Preferably underground.  
  
"Anyway, you just have to ask if you want me to blow something up. Anyhow, you were saying...?"  
  
Zelgadis shook his head in exasperation at the abrupt change of topic, but wisely decided that any topic that Lina wanted to discuss right now without attempting to kill him was just fine and dandy. Exactly the thing he wanted to talk about.  
  
"Anyway, we'll probably meet up with the competition today."  
  
"Oh. Is that all?"  
  
Zelgadis hesitated.  
  
"The competition includes the Red Priest."  
  
"Rezo? You're kidding, right? Why would he want the Stone? He's already one of the most powerful mages in the country."  
  
He was also one of the only mages in the country who got any respect. People in the city by and large feared the use of Black and Shaman (quite reasonably, living near Lina Inverse), but White was a different matter. It's really hard to hate a skilled White mage, with the power to cure ills and banish demons.  
  
"He's trying to cure his blindness. If it comes to a fight, you're going to have to be the one to throw spells with him. I can't help."  
  
"Wait a minute here! Why me?"  
  
"Because that's why I hired you."  
  
"You're evading the question."  
  
Zelgadis shrugged and was silent. A brief staring contest ensued, but was abandoned in short order, as neither participant was really all that interested in pursuing the answer, Zelgadis because he disliked sharing personal information and Lina because she wanted to get out of there and kick some ass. She could badger Zel later. About a minute after Zelgadis' non-answer, therefore, the two left the remains of the establishment and headed for the docks.  
  
It was already mid-morning and the city pulsed with people going about their business. Carriages pushed through the crowds, drivers shouting and gesturing, and miscellaneous businessmen could be heard declaiming their wares from the market. People bustled and shoved, treating the casual crowd-watcher to a flamboyant display of flapping calico, stained linen, and the occasional ripple of rare, luxurious silk, gleaming like a hummingbird in the midst of the flock. The spectacular dance was accompanied by the rich percussive score of horses' hooves, creaking axles, and the peculiarly echoing footsteps of the sturdy street-going boots most city-dwellers favored. The city's smell floated over the assembly, horse manure mingling gracefully with the delicate scent of jasmine perfume and the thick stew of scents coming form the cheesemonger's and the spice market. Mixed in with the ordinary traffic composition of clothiers, housewives, pharmacists, sailors, and merchants, however, prowled groups of patrolmen, casing the crowd like a gang of hammerheads eying a school of mackerel. A few new posters detailing the sensational escape of the demon hung on the walls. Apparently, the effect of the jailbreak would continue to be felt for some time to come. Zelgadis was careful to keep up the hood of Lina's borrowed cloak.  
  
As they neared the docks, the hustle-bustle increased and an odor of dead fish hit them. Yelling, the thump of heavy crates of cargo hitting dry ground, and the occasional shout of real alarm echoed over the buzz of conversation. The river stitched a gray seam across the city, competing with the massive square warehouses for domination of the scene.  
  
Lina looked at Zelgadis, who nodded, and they dived in.  
  
The rest of the morning passed uneventfully. In fact, it was entirely fair to say that it was boring as hell. They walked up and down the streets of the district, breaking into every single building they passed. In most of the warehouses, "breaking in" simply involved convincing a bored security guard that they were Quality Control. In a few high-security areas, Zelgadis' skills (and Lina's proclivity for simply melting a door off its hinges) came in handy. In every case, once they were inside, they would quietly scout for security, and then check the warehouse over for any signs of the alchemical equipment needed to make a Philosopher's Stone or the lingering magical traces the process should have left. They found a few stores of smuggled goods, and some evidence of preemptive sampling of a large liquor shipment, but nothing indicative of high-energy magical-alchemical reactions. A couple of times during the morning, they both felt a magical sweep brush over them, presumably also searching for the Stone, but in both cases the competition (evidently having just as much luck as they were) soon retreated from the Astral with the psychic equivalent of a slammed door. In short, by the time 2:00 rolled around, last night's significant deficiency in the sleep department was beginning to tell on Lina and Zelgadis. They were frustrated, tired, footsore, and, in Lina's case, hungry.  
  
They discussed the difficulty of finding anything in a warehouse whose contents mostly consisted of a very large shipment of imported cuisine. Quite frankly, neither had realized that the warehouse district was so very   
big.  
  
"So what now?" asked Lina, as she impaled the pricey steak she had filched from a nearby butcher's stand on the tip of her rapier and flipped it over on her makeshift grill (which consisted of a large pot lid from the next warehouse over sitting on top of a sustained fireball).  
  
"We keep looking."  
  
Lina grumbled something under her breath. Zel was getting all morose on her again. He was probably still sulking because she made him stop so she could eat.  
  
"Awww...come on. I'm tired. The Stone won't even be complete for another three days. Let's just call it quits for today and take it up where we left off tomorrow."  
  
"No."  
  
"But I'm tired, you're tired, there's still half the district to search and..."  
  
"No."  
  
"If you're worried about competition, they can't do anything for three days either."  
  
"No."  
  
"If we're fresh when we do this we stand a better chance of finding it, you know."  
  
"No."  
  
"Oh, for crying out loud! If we don't get out of here soon I'll fireball your scrawny behind into next Thursday!"  
  
"Fireball me and I cut your pay. No."  
  
Zelgadis kept the smirk off his face only with a great mental effort. Now why hadn't he thought of this before? Lina, on the other hand, fumed. Zelgadis had perfected the art of boulder-like stubbornness to a point at which he could probably get into a "whoever-moves-first-loses" contest with a mountain and win through sheer cussedness.  
  
Still, as he had just pointed out ever-so-adroitly, he was paying her.  
  
"Are you quite done?"  
  
Lina stuck her tongue out at him, shoved the last morsel (read: fist-sized chunk) of steak into her mouth, chewed vigorously, and managed to swallow in time to follow him out the door.  
  
They spent another couple of hours in a fashion similar to that of the morning, albeit with more grumbling from Lina, more growling from Zelgadis, and a good amount of cursing from both parties. Around 4:30, the   
restless crowds were beginning to tatter around the edges as people began trailing homewards, and Lina was about ready to _make Zelgadis turn around and go home, pay or no pay. But as soon as she opened her mouth and curled her tongue for the first syllables of "Hey, Zel," fate intervened.  
  
They both stopped in their tracks, frozen and uncaring as passersby buffeted them and alternately inquired for their health and cursed them out. This was totally unlike the Astral sweeps they had noted before. Those had been tentative and probing, quickly drawing back upon the detection of other magic users. This presence was strong. When its attention lit on them, it was like being slammed into a brick wall. This thing literally cut through the Astral chaos, leaving behind it a wake of planar distress. It swept the district in searchlight fashion, and they felt that ponderous concentration focus on one point. Zelgadis broke out of his frozen immobility.  
  
"That's Rezo!" he snapped out. "He's found it!"  
  
Lina stared. This was the closest he had yet come to losing his cool. Even when he was trapped inside that demon ward his face hadn't shown this much expression. His eyes glinted under the hood's shadow and his voice was sharp with something akin to desperation. Before she had time to say anything, though, he had grabbed her arm and they were racing through the shadowed streets.  
  
"I'm tracking him! Get your biggest spell ready!"  
  
"But..."  
  
"Just start chanting!"  
  
And that was that. Zelgadis had generally seemed a fairly steady sort, and Lina assumed that he wouldn't demand a Dragon Slave without good reason. And well, money was money. So Lina began the incantation for the Dragon Slave under her breath, carefully holding back the element that would ignite the spell, keeping it readied just at the tip of her tongue, set to explode at a word. After that, there was only the tense staccato snare of Zelgadis' impossibly fast footfalls. Lina gave up trying to keep pace and just let him pull her along. The sun cast long angular shadows across the streets from its low position in the sky. This district was almost completely emptied of people now, and the scene to Lina took on the eerie surreal qualities of one of those nightmares where you run and run forever from something you never quite see. To Zelgadis, however, there was nothing unreal about it. Everything was outlined in painful concreteness. There was an extra solidity to the steps he took and the air he breathed. Had he been granted a choice, he would gladly have appropriated Lina's perceptions   
rather than this terrible clarity. In his opinion, the less real an encounter with Rezo the better.  
  
They were close now, so close that he could taste the acrid sense of Rezo's magic. They would see him as soon as they passed the corner of this building, he just knew it. He paused and flattened himself against the building in question to catch his breath. He heard the click of Lina's shoes touching down on the street behind him. He was starting to feel a bit guilty that he kept dragging her around like that, without so much as a by your leave. This was what, the third time? Circumstances just seemed to conspire to necessitate it. Lina would probably kill him for it if it kept up.  
  
Enough of that.  
  
He shouldn't let his apprehensions distract him like this.  
  
He turned to Lina and mouthed a question.  
  
"Ready?"  
  
She nodded. He hadn't really needed to ask. The inquiry was just meant to reassure himself that he wasn't going in without an offense. He could feel the magic coiled around her, the surrounding currents pulled in taut to the spell's workings. Whatever it was, it was huge.  
  
He hoped she wouldn't obliterate the city when she set it off.  
  
He hoped it would be enough to take care of Rezo.  
  
Further delay was pointless. He stepped around the corner, Lina at his side.  
  
  
  
As soon as they emerged from the building's sheltering bulk, Rezo turned towards them. Lina's first thought was, "He looks like Zelgadis." The same sharp features combined with the oddly tense expression matched the face of her companion almost perfectly. Had Rezo's eyes not been closed, sealed blind from birth, she would have had a hard time convincing herself that she was not looking at an older human version of Zelgadis.  
  
"Zelgadis."  
  
It was stated flatly, merely an acknowledgement of presence, with no emotional weight at all.  
  
"Rezo."  
  
Zelgadis spat the word out as if it scorched his lips in a bitter parody of Rezo's greeting.  
  
The blind man appeared to study them, his head tilted slightly to one side in an uncanny semblance of inspection.  
  
"Looking for the Philosopher's Stone, Zelgadis? It won't help, you know."  
  
"I don't believe you. You've already proven yourself untrustworthy."  
  
A tight smile twisted its way across Rezo's lips.  
  
"Just remember that you were the one to back out of the deal."  
  
Zelgadis snarled and nodded towards Lina, who took that as her signal to release the pent-up Dragon Slave. The tight lines of magic were suddenly pulled into the spell like yarn around a spindle. It flooded into her hands, bright and burning. One more surge of power and the spell was freed, screaming towards its target. The red light overwhelmed all vision and the force of its coming shoved all loose matter away in a blast of displaced air.  
  
Again Rezo's thin lips twisted, and he put up a hand to do the impossible:  
  
He shielded a Dragon Slave.  
  
The spell dove into the crackling plane Rezo's will had thrown up in a plume of angry red magic and simply disappeared as if it had never been.  
  
Without the roaring of the Dragon Slave, the alley was left startlingly silent, completely barren of sound. Lina gaped and Rezo smiled calmly. Zelgadis quietly swore, the obscenity falling into the sonic wasteland with all the echoing resonance of a stone breaking the surface of deep water. Rezo's face was suddenly completely blank as he turned again to Zelgadis.  
  
"This is pointless. The Stone will not be complete for three more days. If you wish to fight me for it then, you're welcome to try. Until then, this satisfies no purpose except that of gratifying your desire for vengeance."  
  
This made sense to Lina, so she didn't ready another spell. Zelgadis' expression was enough to make a Mazoku cower in gibbering fear. Since one chose not to oppose him further, and the other could not, Rezo turned and soon disappeared into the swollen shadows of the alley, his staff's piercing chiming audible long after the Red Priest had been swallowed by the gaping darkness._

AN: Okay, guys, here's the deal: You're going to have to wait for a while for the next update. I mean, even longer than usual. Not out of any sadistic impulse on my part, but simply because this is the last chapter I have beta-ed. The next chapter is written, but unedited, so, in order to bring you a better product, I'm going to make you wait. Sorry about that. 

By the way, thanks for reading this. I'm flattered. And a bit incredulous. But mostly flattered. And I promise I'm not going to crap out on you. This thing _will update, when I have the chapter beta-ed._


	6. Negotiations, Both Savory and Un

Disclaimer: I do not own Lina, Zelgadis, or Slayers. Hit the Ground Running 

Chapter Six

In a change from the past several days, it was Lina who dragged Zelgadis behind her on the way back. He was still angry. The single thing he most wanted at that moment was Rezo messily dead at his feet. It was a rather detached sort of anger though, like floating over the crater of an active volcano. He supposed it was due to the utter hopelessness of the situation that he felt so calm. He'd seen it. Rezo had blocked a Dragon Slave. He couldn't win against that kind of power. 

A sharp tug on his ear alerted him to the fact that they had arrived at Lina's apartment and that Lina had grabbed hold of the aforementioned ear plus a handful of hair and was shaking him and yelling something. No, on second thought, she wasn't really yelling. More like hissing really, really loudly. She looked absolutely furious. Great. She might just do the job for Rezo.

"You. Sit your ass down in that chair, Greywords. You don't get up until I say so. You have a lot of explaining to do. Blowing up public property is ok. Trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone is ok. Blowing up the competition for the Stone is also ok. That's what you're paying me for. But nobody, _nobody_, should be able to shield a Dragon Slave that casually unless they're using Cepheid's own power to do it. And even then, it shouldn't just be absorbed like that. What the hell is going on here?" 

"I don't know," came the faint, tired reply. The anger was losing its edge, cooling into a dull gray haze that clouded his mind and suffocated his thoughts. He'd known this kind of good fortune couldn't last. Murphy's Law had a special place in its heart for Zelgadis. Looked like things were getting back to their normal, dismal state. 

Lina glared at him. Zelgadis didn't look so good. Good. The bastard deserved it. The reasons for his being so deserving of it were still a little nebulous, but that was ok too.

"What the hell do you mean, 'you don't know?'"

"'I don't know' means I _don't know_."

 "And how'd you know Rezo was the competition? What's with you and him? What's the deal you 'backed out of,' and what's this vengeance crap he mentioned? Did you just drag me in as extra firepower in some kind of bizarre family feud, or is there something else going on here?"

Zelgadis started a little. 

"How did you know we were related?" He hoped it hadn't been any similarities in demeanor between himself and the old bastard.

"You look alike. Now talk." 

Great. Just great. Well, he was already screwed anyway. He might as well tell her. After all, when it came right down to it, he supposed he'd rather have Rezo kill him for his attempt at the Philosopher's Stone than be ignominiously blasted to Kingdom Come for holding out on Lina. 

"The deal was that I'd find things for him and he'd make me stronger."

"What kind of things? And why'd you back out?"

"Anything that might help cure his blindness. Most of it wasn't for sale, so he needed someone with my skills to help him out. As for why I backed out, it turned out that his idea of making me stronger was making me a chimera."

"Oh."

There really wasn't much she could say to that. 

"So why dump the job of actually fighting Rezo on me? I'd think you'd prefer to do it yourself."

"He included the golem element to prevent my turning on him. If I don't get too close, I can prevent him from controlling me directly, but I can't cast anything at him."

"What happens if you try?"

"Whatever I tried to cast rebounds on me."

When Zelgadis didn't want to answer a question, he tended to just dodge it or ignore it, rather than lie outright, so in all probability every word of this was completely true. The situation still sucked, but…

"All right. I'll accept that. Is there anything else you've neglected to tell me that I need to know?"

Zelgadis shook his head mutely. There was, in fact, plenty that he had neglected to tell her, but none of it that he judged she needed to know. Lina, watching him, concluded that this was in fact the case, but didn't press him. She could see why he wouldn't want to talk about it. With a sigh, she stood up and headed for the back of the apartment.

"Try and get some sleep, Zel. You look like crap." 

Zelgadis stared numbly up at the ceiling for another half hour, thinking absolutely nothing at all, before rolling onto his side and taking Lina's advice. It was still early, but he hadn't gotten much sleep last night. 

Besides, what else could he do?

His sleep was fathomless and inky, no dreams breaking its dark peace. 

The next day's dawn was of that luminous gray color that heralds the arrival of a summer day of cutting heat, one of those where the air shines like mother-of-pearl and sound withers and dries to a grainy husk and is carried away on the thermals so that conversation seems to fall from the sky. 

The heat woke Lina at a much earlier hour than she would have preferred. She felt smothered and sticky, and toss and turn as she might, sleep kept its distance, though lethargy remained a close companion. She finally gave up the fight and stumbled over to the window, managing to avoid knocking her shin on the ever-treacherous nightstand on the way. She stared blearily out at the empty streets, wondering what time it was.

Her conversation (well, to be entirely fair, interrogation might be a more appropriate term) with Zelgadis floated languidly into her mental arena. In this limpid sleep-hazed state, she could not help but consider the ramifications of his predicament. Against her sounder instincts, she was beginning to like Zel. Sure, he might come off as a cold, sullen bastard at first, but she could sympathize with the thoroughly exasperated pessimism with which he faced the world and she liked his stubbornness when it came to getting what he wanted despite his obvious conviction that everything and everybody was against him. It depressed her to think about the lousy deal he'd gotten on life. 

She padded out of the room and down the hallway to poke her head around the doorframe. He was lying on her couch, looking just as tired asleep as he had awake. Lina sighed and returned to her room to go back to looking out the window. 

What the hell. If they won against Rezo, he could have the Philosopher's Stone. 

After all, he wanted it far more than she did. And he'd probably be willing to pay a lot for it. 

When Lina next woke up, it was to the groggy awareness that she had fallen asleep at the window and that there was a crick in her neck and her knees hurt from the kneeling position she had adopted. As often happens when one returns to sleep after a brief forced absence, she felt much more tired than she had on her previous awakening. Her brain felt soggy and her fingers thick. Gauging the angle of the sunlight that pierced the room and the good-natured commotion of the street below, she guessed several hours had passed since her early vigil. With a strangled groan, she crawled off to try and wake up. Finally, feeling only marginally more aware, she ventured into the main part of the apartment. 

The first thing that struck her was that Zelgadis was awake and he was smiling. Lina blinked, stared, and immediately revised her opinion. Smiling was far too benign a word for it. Zelgadis was _smirking_. If he had been a cat, Lina would have immediately started scouting the room for dead rodents. In fact, she wasn't sure she shouldn't be looking for bodies of one sort or another anyway. 

"I," he announced, "am going to die."

Zelgadis had uttered a sentence with _cheerful aplomb. And he was also going to die. The best Lina's brain could do with that information first thing in the morning was:_

"Huh?" 

"The day after tomorrow, Rezo is going to kill me," he explained patiently. "You don't have to come along if you don't want to, but I'll have to modify your cloak a bit. My crossbow won't fit. I'm already paying you plenty, so you really…."

"Your _crossbow_?" 

Lina hurriedly came around to where she could see him better. Zelgadis was seated cross-legged in the middle of her living room, a veritable sea of weapons neatly arrayed around him. Present were the aforementioned crossbow (a small one-handed, cranked model), a couple of flintlocks, a brace of darts, and a multitude of throwing knives of all sizes and descriptions. 

"Yes. My crossbow."

Lina gaped and sputtered. Then it clicked and she began to chuckle. Pretty soon she was laughing out loud while Zelgadis looked on grinning. Of course. He couldn't cast spells at Rezo and close range combat was out of the question. Projectile weapons were the only way to go. 

"Zel?"

"Mm?"

"This is the most bizarre, twisted display of optimism I've ever seen." 

"Thanks."

If he was going to be optimistic, it might as well be bizarre and twisted.

"No problem. And of course I'll come with you. You'll need someone to trade spells with him while you put a bolt in his back." 

"Thank you." 

"Nah. I'm happy to. I want to know how that bastard blocked a Dragon Slave."

The bloodthirsty grin melted from Zelgadis' face.

"I want to know too."

"Did you figure anything out?"

"I'm not sure. A high-level Mazoku might be able to absorb a Dragon Slave like that."

It was theoretically possible. Black magic drew directly on some of the most powerful of the Mazoku hierarchy to provide the volatile energy needed for its spells. The Dragon Slave spell drew on the biggest, baddest Mazoku there was: Shabranigdo, defeated eons ago and broken and sealed away, but still potent and malevolent. 

"But Rezo isn't a Mazoku. Hell, his specialty is White. He can't be."

"Maybe he's getting help from one. I can't think of any other way to have a shield _eat a Dragon Slave."_

"Have to be a really powerful Mazoku."

Zelgadis shrugged.

"Ah, well. Burn that bridge when we get to it, I guess. Coffee?"

"Please. And if you have some oil and a rag…?" he said, glancing sidelong at his armory.

"I'll see what I can do."

The manic grin made its way back and Zelgadis returned to inspecting his arsenal. 

A little while later, Lina sipped her coffee and watched Zelgadis lovingly tend to his knives. Being an enthusiastic devotee of mass chaos and destruction, Lina was quite impressed and just a little bit jealous. Still…there was something rather odd going on here. She looked at Zelgadis, presently engrossed in restoring some invisible shine to a viper-thin stiletto, then at the smorgasbord of weapons, then back again. Repeat. 

"Zel? You normally carry all that on you?"

"Yes."

Lina again eyeballed the armory, then looked back at Zelgadis just to make sure. Sensible, minimal clothes: shirt, pants and boots. 

"Where?"

Zelgadis waved the knife he was holding.

"This one, left forearm sheath, spring-loaded because right-hand draw can be too slow when you need it, that one right forearm sheath, also spring-loaded, those over there are boot knives, that one…"

"Never mind. I don't want to know. How the hell do you sit down without impaling yourself?"

Zelgadis smirked and cracked his knuckles together. They clacked.

"Oh."

Actually, he kept most of his weaponry in his pocket dimension, but people tended to find him much more awe-inspiring when under the impression that he was armed to the teeth at all times, and Zelgadis was certainly not above exploiting this effect. 

"That's…" Lina wavered between "very impressive" and "going overboard" and finally settled on "…remarkably paranoid of you."

"I'm not dead yet."

Lina rolled her eyes.

Around Zelgadis, time could be measured in cups of coffee. It was exactly three cups later that he finished polishing, sharpening, loading, and balancing his weapons. Lina's cloak lay over to the side, recovering from the minor surgery required to comfortably hold his crossbow, and Zelgadis himself sat on the couch, smiling smugly into his fourth cup of coffee. 

Lina, still amused at his obvious satisfaction in being the most secretly deadly man in the city, decided that now would be a good time to inquire as to just how he intended to die.

"So how do you want to do this? Do we just go in there and start blasting, or is there something more to it?"

"I thought it might be prudent to see what can be done to persuade whoever's actually making the Stone that siding with us allows for a higher chance of survival on his part. If nothing else, we can find out when precisely the Stone will be done and make Rezo come to us."

"An ambush, huh? Sounds good to me. Let's go."

Within an hour they stood in front of the warehouse where they had encountered Rezo. At this range, the unfinished Philosopher's Stone vibrated loudly through the Astral, deep and clear, like the sound one would perceive if one could somehow hide oneself inside the low bell of a carillon as it was being rung. Beautiful as it was, it put them at something of a disadvantage. Neither could sense far enough through its thick power to discern whether or not there was anyone inside. They were going to have to go in blind. 

The door was locked, unsurprisingly. In short order, Zelgadis had picked the lock and cautiously edged it open. They walked in, the echoes of their footsteps making Zelgadis wince. If there should be anyone here, they would have plenty of warning that there were intruders present. He fervently hoped that the warehouse was provided with only one exit. Zelgadis remained where he was to guard the entrance against escape, and Lina swept the whole warehouse, looking for their target. At last she came back, looking both relieved and triumphant. 

"No one's here, Zel, but there's a huge pile of alchemical equipment sitting in the back."

"Good. He'll have to come back here to finish the spells. An easy stake-out."

And they settled down behind a cluster of crates to wait. 

And wait. 

And wait.

Lina shifted nervously and yawned, pulling a face when Zelgadis shot her a glare for her noise. She really detested waiting. Zelgadis, on the other hand, was apparently cut out for just this sort of thing. He was just sitting there, _had been just sitting there, eyes never leaving the open aisle and ears straining for any sound for the past two hours. _

"Don't you get bored?"

"Hsst! Be quiet!" 

"No, really. Aren't you sick of just sitting there? Don't your ears get tired? Doesn't your back hurt?"

"I am, in fact, bored to tears, my ears are about to fall off, and I think my spine has sustained permanent damage. Thank you so much for calling it to my attention." 

"I'm bored too. Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored. Really, really, really bored. Bored out of my skull, bored out of my mind, bored like I've never been bored before, bored into next year, like you, bored to tears, bored out of heaven, bored into hell, bored halfway insane, I'll drive you crazy as well…"

Zelgadis frantically fished in his pocket and came up with a somewhat moth-eaten deck of cards. 

"Here. Play solitaire or something. Just don't talk to me. And no more doggerel."

Lina brightened.

"All right! Come on, Zel, don't be so dour! We can play poker to while away the hours!" 

"What did I say about doggerel and talking to me?" 

"Come on…it echoes in here. Surely your ever-so-superior senses will catch someone coming in the second the door opens."

Zelgadis glared. They would, but he'd survived this long in spite of luck, not because of it. 

"One-hundred bottles of ale on the wall, one-hundred bottles of aaaaale…"

"Fine." 

Two hours later, Zelgadis smirked as he laid down his hand and raked in his winnings (some lint and buttons they'd collected from the insides of their pockets, having nothing else to use for markers – well, in point of fact, Zelgadis did have some money, but felt entirely justified in not playing poker with Lina for real currency). Lina pouted.

"No fair! These cards are magicked!"

"No they're not. I just cheat much better than you do."

This was not true in the slightest. In fact, Lina was a bit better at cheating than he was. But Zelgadis had an axe to grind. He resented being pulled away from his post and had not appreciated the doggerel at all. And Lina's threatened rendition of "One-Hundred Bottles of Ale" simply did not bear thinking about. Winning at poker made him feel much better. 

His ears twitched at the faint stirring of greased hinges, and he waved a hand in front of Lina's face and motioned her to silence. They cautiously crept to the crate's outward edge to spy out the intruder's progress. 

The slow-paced tapping of boots engaged in a steady walk made the faint rasping sound of their breaths seem overly loud and continued for an eternity. Finally, just when it seemed that the newcomer had been caught in a Zeno's Paradox preventing him from ever arriving at his destination, the alchemist hove into view.

There was no mistaking him for anything other than a practitioner of that obscure branch of magic. The man's hair hung in dandelion-yellow wisps around his collar, and his oddly bright eyes, darting like the silvery flashing of a school of herring making a sudden turn, were shielded behind several layers of lenses. His hands were stained with tan and purple blotches, the legacy of decades of close work with exotic chemical compounds. Once he had bobbled his way into the haphazard mountain of beakers and burners and vials and tomes, and had begun to potter, Zelgadis and Lina stepped out from hiding. 

They had argued at length over how exactly to do this while playing poker, mostly at Zelgadis' insistence, because Zelgadis believed the best way to navigate the road to success was to meticulously plan a route that circumvented the obstacles. Lina believed that one should blow up the obstacles and worry about incidental damage to the road later. Zelgadis, needless to say, was quite firm in his insistence once Lina made her own views clear. Finally, when he had successfully argued the point that a plan was, in fact, quite necessary, Lina had put forth her plan for the confrontation, which essentially consisted of a rather unsubtle variety of blackmail. Zelgadis, however, favored bribery, a method that, as he pointed out, would allow them to get on the alchemist's good side. Lina had reluctantly seen the wisdom of this approach, and so it was Zelgadis' plan they used now, though Lina had been promised a chance to threaten, should the alchemist prove unreasonably intractable. 

At the sound of footsteps, the alchemist whirled around in a clatter and stammered out a deferential greeting. 

"Ah, g-good morning. Can I help you with something?"

Lina grumpily reflected that Zelgadis could be threatening just by looming in a cloak with a deep hood and that she was getting the short end of the stick here. 

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I think we could use your help. We'd heard that, with Midsummer Eve coming up in a couple of days, a certain item was being manufactured. Are we talking to the right person?"

The alchemist's nose twitched, rabbit-like, and his hand reached for something out of view. Lina nudged Zelgadis, who threw a glance and small nod her way in acknowledgment before shifting minutely to put a knife within easier reach. 

"Maybe. Who are you and what do you want to talk about?"

"We'd like to offer a price for the item. My name is Zelgadis Greywords."

"I'm Lina Inverse."

The man squinted.

"You're Lina Inverse? Really? You sure don't look like much…" 

"I suggest you not antagonize her," whispered Zelgadis conspiratorially. "She's already blown up a city park and a restaurant this week." 

"…but then again, appearances can be deceiving, can't they?"

 "So now that we've introduced ourselves, perhaps you could do the same and tell us whether we've been wasting our time?"

The alchemist's hand finally moved reluctantly away from whatever it had been hovering over and all three relaxed a little. 

"Name's Rathpole. You're wasting your time. I'm not interested in money, and even if I was, I wouldn't sell the Stone to Lina Inverse."

"HEY! Just what do you mean by that?"

Rathpole paled dramatically and flapped his hands in frantic apology, as Lina's smoldering eyes and bright hair suddenly called to mind just a little too vividly the still-smoking remains of the park.

"Nothing! Nothing at all! The Stone is simply not for sale, not even to the illustrious Lina Inverse herself! A thousand apologies!"

Zelgadis hastily interjected before things could get out of hand.

"Maybe we can still work something out. The Stone's for me, not her, and I wasn't planning on making a monetary offer."

"What kind of offer?"

"I can get you a supply of Phoenix Tears."

Rathpole's watery eyes got a little bit wider. The stakes were higher than he had realized. Phoenix Tears, so called for their color of melted amber and their unpredictable volatility, were essential to many of the more complex and esoteric alchemical formulae. Despite their name, they were not truly organic in nature, but were rather something like a liquid mineral. They were imported secretly in small quantities and at great cost from a land somewhere to the east of Lapland, where it was rumored that kings and queens bathed in the stuff to imbue their skin with a golden, godly radiance. It was also borderline illegal. The restrictions and requirements that needed to be met in order to obtain a small quantity were, to say the least, highly prohibitive. And for good reason. The slightest drop of moisture added to a vial of Phoenix Tears moved the formerly inert liquid to sudden, ferocious wakefulness, making it a shipment of the most dangerous sort. Possession without authorization was punishable by a heavy fine and several months in prison. 

Rathpole licked his lips.

"Legally?"

"Legally, no. Untraceably, yes." 

"Good enough. Get me one standard size flask by this time the day after tomorrow and the Stone is yours, and good riddance. I'm sick of moving my equipment every few weeks. You mages are a real nosy…."

Zelgadis cleared his throat.

"Yes, about that…you'll probably get an offer for the Stone from the Red Priest. Don't accept it." Zelgadis paused meditatively, and then added: "Lina, you're free to threaten him now." After all, a little extra encouragement never hurt anyone.

"If you would like to observe a Dragon Slave first-hand, all you need to do is accept it!" Lina smiled contentedly at the thought of a Dragon Slave.

"As I was saying, don't accept it. Do we have a deal?" 

"Yes," squeaked Rathpole. 

"Good. Assume yourself to be under intense surveillance for the next couple of days. If you have dealings with Rezo, I'll know it."

This was not in the least true, but Zelgadis was a fervent believer in "every little bit helps" and "prevention is the best cure."

And with that, the two walked out of the warehouse. Rathpole wiped the sweat off his forehead. Damn punk kids. What had he ever done to deserve a visitation from Lina Inverse?

"Ha, _ha_! That was more fun than I expected! I thought you were going to be all boring and gentlemanly about it, but I guess I underestimated you."

As Lina had expected, Zelgadis just threw her a noncommittal grunt, but the evil smirk (apparently copyrighted; Lina had never seen a smirk quite like it.) was back in full force. 

"What was that you were telling me about not solving your problems with violence?"

"Special circumstances." 

"Suuure. So how are you going to get your untraceable Phoenix Tears? Steal 'em, right? Can I come?" 

A rather frightening smile wound its way across Zelgadis' face, quickly erased before Lina could take note of it.

"All right. You can be lookout." 

Lina shivered and stomped to keep herself warm. It might be summer, but night so near the river was still far, far too cold for her tastes. She had been standing in front of this warehouse for nearly an hour, senses tense and stretched to their limit, watching for anything, anything at all, that might compromise Zel. 

She was really, really bored. And now there was no Zel to annoy to pass the time. 

In fact, she was beginning to suspect Zel had set her up here in a covert act of vengeance. That acquiescence of his had been just a little too easy…. 

So now she was freezing her butt off out here while Zelgadis burgled yet another warehouse (this one a good distance from Rathpole's). The first thing they had done was go off to the docks to check the shipping postings. After buying a broadsheet, he had poured over it for perhaps fifteen minutes before pointing out the following notice:

Schooner _Dragonfly_ out of Venice, arrived 6:24 on the eve of the eighteenth. Captain: Mark Jones. Mate: Esteban Garcia. Cargo: Asst. Furs, Cedar wood, Asst. dried fruits of exotic origin, salted jerky, northern honey, iron ore. Warehouse 48. Departure on the morning tide of the twenty-fourth.

Northern honey was the usual slang for a smuggled Phoenix Tears import. 

Their theft would be rendered untraceable by the simple fact that no smuggler worth his hide would be willing to report a theft. If the cargo didn't officially exist, it couldn't officially go missing. 

So now Lina dying of boredom out in the freezing cold, unable to do anything interesting, because that might possibly attract attention, and Zelgadis, who hated attention with a passion under normal circumstances, loathed and reviled it while trying to do a job. Admittedly, Lina could see his point there. Attention would not be a good thing at this juncture. But still! This was taking far too long, and, truth to tell, she was starting to get a little bit worried. __

_Zel__?_

Lina tapped into the Astral and began a tentative search for him. They had agreed that he would remain connected to the Astral for the duration of the job so that Lina could contact him as quickly as possible if need be. After all, what good was a lookout if she couldn't alert you to danger?__

_Lina__?__ What's wrong?_

Rezo had done a good job keeping the Mazoku out of Zelgadis' physical appearance, but it would be impossible to mistake its presence in the Astral plane. Zelgadis still felt like Zelgadis, weary pessimism and all, but his personality had acquired a flickering edge of glittering cold, vicious and bright-bladed. Talking to him here felt like wading into an iced-over lake. __

_Nothing's wrong out here. You're taking a long time. Is everything all right in there?_

_Yes. I just have to find the right crate. _

Lina recalled the number of crates to be found in your typical warehouse and gave a mental groan. Suddenly the distinctive hollow tap of footsteps sounded and Lina gave up her grumbling in favor of trying to determine its source. Where was it coming from? It was hard to tell in here; the flat bulk of the warehouse walls tended to bounce sound. She slowly turned in a full circle, trying to determine its origin. There. Was that corner becoming lighter? Yes!

In a moment, the yellow glow of a lantern rounded the corner, swinging in perfect metronome to the steps of its carrier. Behind its blunt radiance, she could make out the uniform of the guard.__

_Zel__! Cops!_

_How many?_

_Two._

_Then it's probably just a routine patrol. Can they see you?_

_No._

Lina crouched in the shadow of the barrels by the warehouse's entrance, holding her breath as she waited for the patrol to pass by. Finally silence once again fell over the scene and Lina crept out again.__

_They're gone._

_Good. If they stick to a regular schedule we'll probably only have to worry about three more before this is done. _

_Three more?!_

_This is a big warehouse, Lina. _

_Groan._

Zelgadis managed to somehow convey a shrug through the Astral plane.__

_You wanted to come._

_Sadist._

Fortunately for Lina, during the next hour, Zelgadis struck it lucky and found the correct crate. Nonetheless, she was very, very relieved when Zelgadis finally stepped out of the door. It was _cold_ out there. Not to mention boring. If she ever became a professional, she was going to stay as far away from burglary as possible. Oh no. She wouldn't touch a breaking and entering job ever again. No, if Lina was going to be a thief, she was going to be a mugger. 

"You got it, right? Right?"

Zelgadis nodded.

"Great! Let's get out of here. I'm cold! Come on, _hurry_!" 

Back in the blessed warmth and relative safety of Lina's apartment, they stared at the flask Zelgadis had extracted from his cloak (Lina had given up. It was carrying his crossbow, his darts, and probably some of his knives. Besides, he used it more than she ever had. It was now officially his cloak.). 

The flask itself was perhaps only four inches long, but the power of the liquid inside it made it seem bigger. Anyone with any mage sense at all could tell that the Phoenix Tears were highly magical. Hell, even a person with no mage sense whatsoever would have no trouble keeping their distance. The fluid exuded brassy golden radiance of a headache-inducing vibrancy and churned inside its glass prison with almost sentient frustration, forcing itself against the inside walls in seething miniature tsunamis. 

Lina was very impressed.

"And you're really going to give this stuff to Rat-face? You sure that's wise? He didn't seem to be the most steady of persons."

Zelgadis shrugged. 

"It's one more obstacle in Rezo's way. As long as I get the Stone, I couldn't care less what he wants to do with this stuff."

Lina rolled her eyes and reflected that she might have found an equal in Zelgadis when it came to disregard for public safety.

…Though, given the path recent events seemed inclined to take, that might turn out to be a very good thing indeed.

AN: Finally back. Those of you who are reading this, thanks for sticking around. See? Told you I wouldn't crap out on you. The person you should actually thank for my not leaving you in limbo any longer is PKNight, who did us all one hell of a favor by biting the bullet and volunteering to beta-read this sucker. 

The good news is that you shouldn't have to wait too long for the next chapter – because deleria was almost right – chapter seven is close to completion. 

So many thanks to PKNight, and many thanks to you guys. You have no idea how thrilled I am that people are reading this thing. (And apparently enjoying themselves, no less!) You rock. 


	7. PreBattle Preparations, and the Derailme...

Disclaimer: I do not own Lina, Zelgadis, or Slayers. Don't sue. Hit the Ground Running 

Chapter Seven

Zelgadis awoke the next morning to the languid composure shared by all those living on borrowed time. He had not been lying to Lina the other day when he had told her that he was going to die. It was his custom before any risky situation to convince himself that his demise was certain and imminent. He felt it allowed him to better take risks and, should it come to pass as he anticipated, well, he would be prepared. It was simply the most logical thing to do.

In actual fact, his death tomorrow was by no means certain. The Philosopher's Stone would be rendered unavailable to Rezo via conventional, legal means by today, and if he could stay far enough away and Lina could keep up a fierce enough barrage of spells to distract him, he stood a good chance of killing Rezo with a well-aimed shot with crossbow, guns, knives, or darts.   

This, however, was not a thought he dwelled on, as it interfered with his pre-death preparations.

He'd already done his mourning. Frankly, there wasn't much he was going to miss. Not his family. Rezo didn't count, and he could barely remember the others. Didn't really have any friends to miss. Certainly wasn't going to regret leaving the dismal, grimy living he'd been eking out for years now. 

Coffee. He would miss coffee. To a being whose senses were constantly besieged by the clamor and confusion of everyday life on a scale that only long experience prevented from being sensory overload, a liquid that could envelop most of his senses in one blessedly unified experience was precious as diamonds to a miser. He would miss running, too. Although admitting it made him clench his fists and narrow his eyes, he loved the speed the Mazoku element gave him. When Zelgadis had one of his exceedingly rare good dreams, it usually involved running endlessly over a two-dimensional white road floating mysteriously on a vast sea of the exact clarity and color of an aquamarine carefully cut and lovingly polished, fast and tireless. 

And Lina. He would miss Lina. He would miss the verbal sparring and the banter. He would miss the tough-as-boot leather optimism. He would even miss the temper tantrums. 

To think he had come so close to having a friend so near the end of his life. It was ironic. 

But then again, to Zelgadis, everything about his life reeked of irony. 

In the end, though, it didn't matter. He was going to die tomorrow, whether he liked it or not. 

He was going to give Rezo a run for his money and go out with some dignity, though. He could at least ensure that much. 

Zelgadis got up from the couch and headed for the window. As long as he peered out through the slit in the curtains, he should be safe from prying eyes in the street below. The morning was filled with mist, curled and creeping, coiled about lamp posts and doorways like strangling vines. Above the fog, the sky gleamed in that colorless tone that signals a day of air so heavy with moisture that your lungs feel weighted and creaking. It was cooler than it had been yesterday, though. Perhaps it would rain later. 

Zelgadis was rudely shaken from his fatalistic reverie by an eardrum-perforating shriek from Lina, in the process of becoming reacquainted with her nightstand after her one-day respite from its gentle ministrations. The howling eventually died down to grumbles, and in short order Lina emerged.

"Morning, Zel."

Zelgadis grunted. It was his personal policy never to express any enthusiasm for mornings. People might come to expect cheer from him on a regular basis, and he simply could not allow that. 

"Ah, don't be such a sourpuss. Come on, let's go get breakfast!"

And with the lightning rapidity characteristic of Lina at her most ravenous, the apartment was rendered entirely devoid of life.

Lina watched Zelgadis savor his coffee, hands clasped around the mug, ignoring the handle, and head bent over the over the cup's wide mouth to inhale the aroma-laden steam arising from the liquid within. Zelgadis sipped his coffee with all the appreciation and fine sensibility of a wine connoisseur, memorizing the bitter, full taste of every mouthful. For a guy whose views on life were epitomized by the words "solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short," Zel sure knew how to enjoy the finer things it offered. 

In fact, his calm devotion to that cup of coffee was driving Lina up the walls and onto the ceiling. Tomorrow they were going to be in a fight! A big fight! Lina had entered the stage of her battle preparation characterized by reckless glee and boundless aggression toward her opponent. 

Unlike Zelgadis' brutally logical psychological preparation for the upcoming confrontation, Lina's reaction to the looming reality of the fight was entirely involuntary. She couldn't help it. Whenever the stress rating on Lina's life jumped a notch, her attitude invariably swung (after the initial "oh, holy crap" stages) to the kick-your-ass-with-a-smile optimism she found herself in now. 

She had noticed Zelgadis' unusual solemnity. His sarcastic complaints over her disregard for the state of his wallet had lacked their usual causticity, and the way his gaze lingered on every scene had not escaped her. She supposed it was part of his own preparation. She had learned that everyone had his or her own way of going about it. Knowing Zel, his was probably thoroughly morbid and utterly pessimistic, but hey, whatever floated his boat. 

She wasn't going to let him get her down, though. Oh, no. No, today they had an alchemist to intimidate, battle plans to hash out, and the rest of the day to waste in the time-honored Inverse tradition of pre-battle hedonistic celebration, which Zel was coming along for, whether he liked it or not. 

…

…

…

Well, perhaps hedonistic celebration was going a bit too far. If she worked really hard at it, maybe she could get him to demonstrate mild enthusiasm for a visit to a coffeehouse. 

A smell of burnt sugar and a calamitous clatter met them at the entrance to warehouse. Both Lina and Zelgadis were greatly relieved that they wouldn't have to wait for Rathpole's arrival. Yesterday's experience had been quite enough for both of them. Silence suddenly blossomed as the door slid shut.

"Who's there?"

The faint ring of metal sliding over metal echoed in the stale air of the warehouse, and Lina and Zelgadis recalled Rathpole's nervous reach for something out of sight on the previous day. 

"We have the Phoenix Tears."

Sounds of scuffling.

"…All right. Come out."

They did so, slowly, careful not to startle Rathpole, who crouched protectively in front of his fortress of arcane equipment. If possible, he looked even more scruffy and rumpled than he had yesterday. His clothes were heavily wrinkled and damp with sweat, and his thin hair seemed to have acquired the marvelous levitational powers of a medieval halo, framing his twitching features in an aureole of thistledown. It was not hard to surmise that he hadn't left the warehouse since they had last seen him. 

"Show me."

Zelgadis slowly reached a hand inside his cloak and pulled out the flask, holding it up to catch the gray light tumbling in through the high, dusty windows and refract it in the metallic gold tones of a trumpet fanfare. Rathpole's dangerous tension vanished into thin air at the sight, and he scurried forward. Though he was taller than Zelgadis by at least a head, the cringing reverence with which he brought his reedy hands to the flask made him seem small and bent. Zelgadis brought the Phoenix Tears back out of range before his knobby fingers could close on it, and Rathpole gave an outraged gasp. 

"What are you doing?"

"I want your word that you'll complete your part of the deal."

"The Philosopher's Stone is yours. So I solemnly swear, Shabranigdo consume me if I lie."

"When will it be ready?"

"It ought to be finished tomorrow night."

"Can you be more specific?"

"Um…say between 10:00 and midnight."

"Good. We'll be there. If Rezo shows up, you had better hope that that pistol you keep reaching for is as intimidating as you seem to think it is."

"The look on his face when you said that was priceless! How'd you know it was a pistol, anyway?"

They were walking aimlessly back in the general direction of Lina's apartment, Lina fairly bouncing in barely-contained exuberance, and Zelgadis solemnly placing one foot in front of the other with careful deliberation. Each step was one step closer to his death, and so close to his own demise, Zelgadis was determined not to waste any time at all with unintentional actions. 

"Hey! You listening?"

"Hmm?"

Lina was a bit worried. His ever-present poker face always made it hard to tell what Zel was thinking, but it was worrisome that he had been so distracted as not to hear her. Zel had always before seemed hyperaware of his surroundings, eyes darting to dark corners, turning his head to the slightest of sounds. 

"Zel, are you ok?"

"I'm fine," he said brusquely. "What were you saying?"

"How'd you know it was a pistol?"

"Didn't sound heavy enough for a rifle, and Rathpole doesn't look like he could use a sword." 

"Oh. _Damn, your hearing's good."_

Zelgadis grunted. Hopefully it wouldn't stay that good for long.

"So where to now?"

He shrugged.

"Nowhere. We just have to wait. There's nothing we can do until tomorrow night. You can do whatever you want until then."

"What are you going to do?"

He shrugged again. In truth, he would probably find someplace calm and devoid of people and spend the rest of the day preparing himself for certain doom. He wasn't about to tell Lina that, though. She probably wouldn't like it, and he didn't want to spend too many of his last hours healing himself or searching for clothes without scorch marks so he could go out with some dignity. 

Lina scowled. Right. That probably meant he was going to go find somewhere to mope.

"All right, Zel. I don't have anything to do either. Coffee sound good to you?"

Before Zelgadis could formulate a suitably non-inflammatory reply, Lina had grabbed his arm and they were off. 

Zelgadis watched in the fastidious disgust of a purist as Lina ordered coffee with everything. I mean _everything_. Cream, honey, and a liberal helping of rare and expensive spices. Cinnamon, cardamom, even precious nutmeg disappeared into Lina's bottomless mug, the liquid inside now a delicate golden brown reminiscent of desert sand. Zelgadis wasn't quite sure what it was, but it sure as hell wasn't coffee anymore. Lina demanded yet another scoop of cinnamon, and Zelgadis gloomily reflected that in at least one respect, it was a good thing he was dying tomorrow. If he had to keep paying for Lina's meals he'd wind up out on the streets again in no time. 

Having finally bullied the waitress into giving her enough of everything, Lina flopped back in her chair and grinned the happy smile of a crocodile who has just eaten a very fat person. Now she finally had her chance to embroil Zel in a nice, messy magical debate. This could be fun. 

"So. Do you think it's possible to find a Magnus' Key for Black?"

Zelgadis blinked. He had not been expecting that. He had been expecting a rant, or some more of Lina's teasing, or even dead silence. The opening gambit to a discussion on a complex area of thaumaturgical debate had definitely not been on the list. 

But what the hell. Magical theory was always interesting, and that conversation with Lina about how to find the Philosopher's Stone had been the most engrossing he'd had on the topic. It would be nice to actually enjoy a couple of his last hours. 

"No. I don't think it can be done."

Lina beamed and dove headfirst into the conversation. 

It was relatively easy to create original Shamanistic spells, though it still required a high level of expertise in the field. Original Black spells were another matter. No one had created an original Black spell in years. The reason for the huge variety in Shamanistic spell variants lay in the discovery of Magnus' Key. 

Lei Magnus had discovered that certain key phrases (and the mental maneuvers that accompanied their utterance in a casting), when used in incantations, opened up a broad area of the natural magical spectrum to the caster's manipulations. In this sense, Magnus' Key really was a key of sorts. One could create an original Shamanistic spell without the aid of Magnus' Key, but it required a lot more thought and a lot more work. To create such a spell, the caster would have to find an independent way to tap into and draw out the natural magical power Shamanism relied on. Magnus' Key allowed for cut-and-paste magic. One simply used the Key to open the door to the necessary branch of magic and manipulated the power drawn in any way desired. 

Black could not be accessed broadly and shaped in the same way because it drew directly on the power of individual Mazoku. Magic is an integral part of the being of any creature that possesses the ability to manipulate it. One's individual magic varies from person to person in much the same way as individual personalities do. Black drew on the individual magic of the Mazoku Lords, and so came pre-shaped, so to speak. The magic already knew what form it wanted to take, and it had proven extremely difficult to fashion it into anything else. To be sure, some limited success had been achieved with the power of Ruby Eye Shabranigdo and the Lords Deep Sea Dolphin and Dynast Grauscherra, but no one had been able to make the power of Greater Beast Zelas Metallium, Chaos Dragon Gaav, or Hellmaster Phibrizzo take any form but that of Zelas Brid, Gaav Flare, and Laguna Blast, respectively. 

Zelgadis held that the power sources for Black magic were too idiosyncratic to possess a broad, all-purpose opening that could be exploited with a Magnus' Key. Lina countered that the powers Shamanism drew on for its spells were just as different. You couldn't really get much more diverse than fire and water and air and earth, could you? If you could have a Magnus's Key for fire-based Shamanism, why couldn't you have a Magnus' Key for Black magic drawing on Dynast Grauscherra? Zelgadis argued that while the essence of fire was fairly mindless and constant, the essence of Dynast Grauscherra very definitely had a mind of its own and was subject to change without notice. Lina replied that any entity must have at least a few basic unchanging tenets of its existence – there must be something about the essence of Dynast Grauscherra that made it the essence of Dynast Grauscherra and no one else, no matter how Dynast Grauscherra might change over time. 

…And so on.   

You get the picture. In no time at all, Lina and Zelgadis were engaged in a highly technical, wide-ranging discussion of magic and philosophy. What patrons hadn't immediately abandoned the coffee shop upon their arrival ('Cause let's face it: Zelgadis and Lina both look pretty disreputable. Definitely not the kind of people you want to associate with if you're a gentleman.) swiftly vacated the premises when they realized that the animated conversation between the two had high-level Black magic as its topic. 

The establishment's owner paced nervously behind his counter. Those two were not the kind of customers he usually served. The cloaked one was entirely too threatening for his liking, and the girl's scandalous attire simply did not bear thinking about. And they were talking up a storm about magic – and Black magic no less, which everyone knew drew on pure evil to accomplish its nefarious purposes. And they had chased most of his regular clientele away. They might give him a bad reputation. 

…But he had to admit, the cloaked one was drinking enough coffee to single-handedly make up for the momentary loss of his other customers. 

He didn't know whether to call the guard or just wait and see if he could get them to drink some more. 

At this moment, his dilemma was solved for him when Lina piped up. 

"Hey, Zel? I'm hungry. You want to continue this somewhere where they serve food?"

The cloaked one (Zel? Odd name…) looked mournfully into his coffee cup and made as if to get up, but was halted in his progress by the proprietor scurrying up to the table. 

"Ah, miss? We also serve food here. Mostly pastries and sandwiches, but…."

_Just please don't leave now! A couple more cups of coffee and I'll actually cut a profit today!_

"You do? What are you waiting for? Bring it on, old man!"

"Right away, miss."

Lina and Zelgadis resumed their esoteric conversation, and in short order the owner returned with a plate of tidbits. He watched in amazement as Lina wolfed it down in what appeared to be a grand total of three gigantic mouthfuls only, and hurriedly disappeared into his kitchen to prepare as much food as he could. After ferrying several plates heaped to overflowing out to the tiny table the two occupied, the proprietor simply sat back and watched in dumb astonishment as the tiny redhead steadily consumed his hard work at a pace reminiscent of wildfire. At one point in the frenzy, the cloaked man reached in and delicately rescued a small roll from the chaos. The girl stopped and stared.

"Zel! You're eating something! And here I thought you lived on air and coffee!"

Having received only an amused snort in reply, the girl rolled her eyes and both were soon again submerged in their theoretical discussion. They stayed there the rest of the day, the girl eating mountainous quantities of food and the cloaked man drinking oceanic quantities of coffee. A few would-be clients poked their heads in, but quickly turned away at the sight of the two. The proprietor was in awe of them. He would have to restock tomorrow, but what they had consumed more than made up for it. Who cared if they scared his regular clientele away? If he could just keep up with their demands, he could get rich off the two of them alone! Had the CAWUAT been present, they would surely have shaken their heads and explained to him as gently as possible that all that glitters is not gold, and that, despite the fact that the presence of Lina Inverse was profitable at the outset, the property damage and overwork more than counterbalanced it.

Finally, when the sky was taking on that golden tint that precedes a summer sunset, Lina let out an incongruously ladylike belch and patted her stomach, and Zelgadis contentedly set down his final empty mug of coffee. He dug around for a sufficiently large wad of money and laid it down on the counter, and they ambled out the door, still conversing animatedly, though by this time the topic of discussion had shifted over to the feasibility of spells combining elements of Black and Shamanism or White and Shamanism. The proprietor clutched his fistful of money and waved to them from the door, grinning madly all the while.

"Hope you enjoyed yourselves! Please come back again! But not too soon!" 

Lina entered her apartment, Zelgadis following close behind her, still talking. By unspoken accord they both made for the sitting room and Lina lighted the lamps with a modified fireball. They continued to talk for a while on the diverse topics relating to _ars magica_, and finally reached an impasse when dark had completed its takeover of the city. They fell into a relaxed silence and simply gazed up at the ceiling in comfortable indolence. 

Zelgadis was smiling, though he didn't realize it. It had been a relief to have such a lengthy, in-depth conversation. Years of having the borders of human contact defined by yes and no, fine and thanks, had worn on him. Though not talkative by nature, so few words in so many days had left him desperate for a real conversation. After a time, silence settles on a person like a heavy cape, builds up inside them inside them like a poison. If you don't find catharsis soon, you suffocate under the looping weight of your own solitary thoughts, which swoop and flutter like a flock of sparrows in a mid-air turn, flitting and disconnected. 

"Hey Zel?"

"Hmm?"

"How do you know so much about this stuff?"

Zelgadis sank back down out of the clouds to gloomily reply.

"Rezo."

"Oh. Sorry. I just wondered…. My big sister, Luna…you remember, the waitress? She taught me. I believe her exact words were, 'If we must be saddled with this curse of yours, you _will_ learn to control it to the best of your ability. If you cannot or will not control it, you are no longer welcome in this household.' Heh. I learned to control it, and then I got out of there as soon as I could so I didn't have to. Big Sis sure was thorough, though. Have to give her that. Got me all the black market texts, read up on the stuff herself so she could test me…the works. If I didn't know my stuff, she'd know it and she'd make sure I knew it and repented of my ways." 

"Hmph. Rezo just gave me the key to his library and told me to come back when I thought I could survive a test."

"I think I would actually have preferred that to Luna's tutoring. _Anything is better than being grilled by Luna, anything at all."_

Zelgadis wasn't sure what to make of her tight voice and pale, strained expression. Lina Inverse was a force of nature. She carried with her such an air of invincibility that he was almost convinced that bullets would damage her just about as much as they would him. To see her deathly afraid of something so mundane as her older sister was perversely comforting. Underneath the invulnerability lay a human being, and it was comforting to know that a mere mortal could be so devil-may-care tough. Even if he died tomorrow, he was sure Lina would survive. She might come out bruised and limping, but come out she would and live to fight another day. Lina gave a whole new set of reasons for the possession of faith in humanity.  

They both stared silently up at the glass-pale ceiling for a while, just letting lethargy play with the trailing edges of their thoughts. The streets outside were quiet but for the occasional clipping of hooves across cobblestones and creak of strained axles. Periodically a raucous shout would arise from a group of merrymakers somewhere or the cheerful babble of a group of friends would pass under the window. The city had cooled considerably with the sun's exit, and a damp breeze rolled through the streets, flapping clothes and stirring curtains. A particularly hearty gust suddenly made Lina's hair writhe and blew out one of their lamps in an abrupt stench of smoke and oil. Lina sneezed and then chuckled.

"Oh well. Guess that's that. That was fun, Zel. We'll have to do it again. Good night. Try and get some sleep, and don't brood too much."

_Hmph. 'Don't brood too much.'_

As if that would deter him.

Oh well. Zelgadis realized he was still smiling and hastily let his face fall back into its customary serene blankness. Perhaps, on second thought, he would avoid brooding tonight after all. He already knew he was going to die, and he didn't want to shove that conversation out of his mind just yet. It provided an unexpectedly pleasant high note on which to end his life. 

AN: Er…yeah. Got a little theory-heavy in there. Sorry about that. I'm one of those people who likes that kind of thing. I was _this_ close to being a linguistics major. And I know I'm taking terrific liberties with the Slayers magic system, but hopefully they're not inconsistent liberties. You guys seem like a remarkably nice bunch, so I'm hoping you won't lynch me over it. 

Anyway, thank you for reading this, as always. And those of you who review, thanks for that, too. Warms the cockles of my heart, it does. 

And, of course, many thanks to PKNight, without whom this would be mouldering away on my hard drive, un-beta'd and forlorn. 


	8. Hard Knocks

Disclaimer: I do not own Lina, Zelgadis, or Slayers. Don't sue. Hit the Ground Running 

****

****

Chapter Eight

            They both awoke late the next morning. Lina's nightstand was doing its best to force their sleep cycles into synchronization, and so when Lina stumbled out of her room, she was met with the sight of a very groggy Zelgadis blearily massaging his forehead, presumably in a futile effort to stimulate frontal lobe activity. Lina muttered a good morning, Zelgadis grunted in reply, and they shuffled off in search of breakfast. Lina ate even more than was usual for her, calling back the waitress a third and a fourth and a fifth time, and Zelgadis nursed his coffee, periodically topping it off from the pot he had demanded. They left the restaurant a shambles and the waitress a shivering wreck and returned to Lina's apartment to wait for nightfall.

Back in the living room, Lina paced and would occasionally lob a dart in the general direction of the large portrait of King William and Queen Mary, not because she hated the House of Orange any more than she hated authoritative institutions in general, but rather out of boredom and nerves. Zelgadis sat quietly on the couch, looking at nothing in particular and drumming his fingers in rapid, complex rhythms. 

On his private list (entitled Things I Hate About Being a Chimera), not being able to bite his fingernails without breaking a tooth ranked pretty high. As a human, Zelgadis had been an obsessive nail-biter. When he had become a chimera and had discovered that using a whetstone to grind down his nails when they got too long was the only way to go, he had been forced to switch nervous habits. Now he drummed his fingers. He had gotten pretty good at it (he could tap out unerringly the beat of every piece of music he knew), but the clicking sound the pads of his fingertips made against whatever he drummed on sometimes got to him. 

"Zel, would you quit that infernal tapping!"

Evidently it got to Lina too.

Maybe he would switch to biting the inside of his cheek instead. In many ways, he felt it to be a superior nervous habit, for not only was it soundless, but accompanied by a properly prepared poker face, it was nearly undetectable. 

Zelgadis bit the inside of his cheek and thought dark thoughts about Rezo. 

Lina sighed in relief as Zelgadis' fingers slowed to a halt, spun on her heel, and nailed Queen Mary in the nose. She stalked over to pry the darts out of the canvas and grumbled mentally about the wait. She was impatient to fight. Never mind that Rezo had simply _absorbed_ a Dragon Slave, she wanted to mix it up, go toe to toe, break heads, whatever, just _fight him. Lina cursed the Lord of Nightmares for having been cruel enough to make a twenty-four hour day. _

"Here, Zel. Want to switch? You can commit treason in effigy and I'll brood?"

Zelgadis shrugged, but got up and started throwing darts (more accurately than Lina had, she noticed sourly). Lina sat down on the couch and started drumming her fingers until she realized what she was doing. They spent perhaps a quarter of an hour that way, in complete silence but for the minute pops and tears of the darts biting into good Holland canvas. Lina, however, was not a person naturally given over to brooding and so in short order she gave it up to rag on Zel instead.

"Zel. You still have those cards?" 

Zelgadis silently nodded, dug in his pocket, and tossed the grimy deck over to Lina before turning his attention back to mentally replacing the Queen's image with that of his illustrious ancestor. 

The slap of cards dancing in one of the many newer, more complex variations on solitaire and the age-old _thunk_ of thrown darts echoed slightly in the apartment's still air and acquired a subtle quality verging on the hypnotic. Some time later, the dart-strikes dropped out of the sonic landscape and the cards' noise acquired a varied pace when Lina grew bored with solitaire and dragged Zelgadis into another game of poker. One round turned into two turned into ten, and they passed the hours until nightfall in tense contemplation of suites and runs and flushes. 

When the room turned blue and Lina had to squint to see her cards, Zelgadis laid down his hand with a faint snap of thick paper and gestured to the darkening windows.

"Let's go." 

There were still a few hours to go before the earliest time Rathpole had named for the Philosopher's Stone's completion, but Zelgadis wanted to be there as soon as possible, both for the sound strategical reason of wanting to get the jump on Rezo and for the more urgent personal one of wanting the whole ordeal over with. Lina herself had no objections to arriving early. She was wound up as tight as she could go in preparation for the fight. She didn't particularly care about how fast they got it over with – she just wanted it to _start. She snapped out a predatory grin, stretched, and headed for the door._

"All right, Zel. Let's go kick ass."

He shot her an incredulous glance that plainly said, _"What the hell are you so happy about?"_ Lina's grin widened in answer, Zelgadis gave an exasperated silent appeal to the heavens with accompanying eye-roll, and they set off into the dusk. 

In actual fact, of course, they did not immediately commence with the ass-kicking. What really happened was that they got to the warehouse, scared Rathpole out of his wits (again), and watched over his shoulder as the Philosopher's Stone slowly shaped itself out of the noisome potions he kept mixing together. 

Lina stood a little ways in front of the mountain of equipment Rathpole sat entrenched within, watching curiously as the alchemist poured mixture after strangely-smelling mixture into a funnel draining into an enormous flask over a burner. The air felt tight with unfinished magic and she edged a little farther away from the workstation, hoping the Stone itself wouldn't interfere with her spells. Zelgadis crouched in the shadows among the crates to her left, staring fixedly at the warehouse's only entrance. His mind was empty of all but the streamlined determination not to let Rezo win. As soon as Rezo opened that door, he would nudge Lina's attention through the Astral Plane and disappear into the jungle of crates. Lina would take Rezo head-on, and when Rezo was unguarded, he would take him out from a distance in whichever way seemed most expedient and grab the Stone while he was down. 

(That was the plan. It was a good plan, nice and simple, with very little room for anything to go wrong.) Zelgadis had faith in the universe's ill will, but tonight it didn't matter. No matter what happened, he would make sure Rezo was sorry it had occurred. 

The door opened, the familiar weight of Rezo's presence entered the Astral Plane, Zelgadis gave Lina her signal, disappeared into the crates, and the room convulsed in flickering patterns of light as Lina sent an opening salvo of Flare Arrows Rezo's way. He raised a Balus Wall, and the battle began in earnest.

A fight between two first class mages is not something that happens every day, and a fight between Lina Inverse and a mage of sufficient caliber to match her is something else altogether. Because mages were so rare, it was almost never that a battle was fought purely with magic. Spell duels were the stuff of legend. 

Lina cursed and launched a Bram Blazer at Rezo. Before she could complete a follow-up to the spell, she felt him let fly something nasty, and barely dodged a Dam Brass. 

_Damn. He's fast, fast, FAST.  _

And after that stunt with the Dragon Slave, she wasn't going to waste energy on hoping he couldn't block other types of Black, so she was stuck with Shamanism. And the sonuvabitch was casting silently. Not only did it make him even faster, but without the incantation, she didn't know what he was casting until he said the keyword. Oh, she could take a guess from the feel of what he was calling up, but having to rely on that and her reflexes to dodge and block some of this stuff was not a situation she wanted to have to put up with for long. 

_Come **on**, Zel, get your ass in gear and shoot this bastard before I do something we'll all regret. _

Zelgadis perched on a tall stack of crates positioned perhaps thirty feet behind Rezo and a little to his left, taking careful aim with the crossbow. It was a tad outdated (more like anachronistic by a couple of centuries, really), but he had taken it along especially for Rezo. He wanted to make damn sure Rezo couldn't heal himself when he shot him. You could close up a bullet wound or yank out a dagger or a dart, but a foot-long crossbow bolt with a barbed head was another matter. 

He stared through the sight again, just to make sure, and slipped his finger over the release. This was the best chance he'd ever have. Rezo was absorbed in blocking one of Lina's Fireballs, and at this range, the bolt would nearly impale him. 

_Now._

The bolt escaped with a thick _shunk_ and the crossbow threw itself back against his arm. His eyes followed its progress with heavy anticipation. The aim was true, its trajectory straight and fast. It would strike Rezo at a slight angle just a little below the left shoulder blade, sliding between ribs, bursting a lung and rupturing his heart before shattering the sternum. The Mazoku side of him was nearly screaming in insane delight, and he could _feel_ his pupils dilate to gather in the sight. 

The point of the quarrel found the straight fall of the Red Priest's robe and tore through it, scarlet fabric billowing inwards.

There was a scream, not human, but metallic, and Zelgadis' bolt halted in its tracks and dropped heavily, thwarted by simple plate mail. 

Lina heard Zelgadis give an incoherent shout and immediately snapped her eyes to Rezo's face. The Priest was smirking in that sinister way she had thought peculiar to Zelgadis. Something was very, very wrong. Then she caught sight of the crossbow bolt on the floor behind him.

_Shit. Oh shit. _

The spell battle doubled in intensity to a chorus of explosions and shrieking elements.

Zelgadis could barely think for rage. Whenever he tried, the only thing his mind came up with was: _That isn't fair._

At this range, the bolt from even a small crossbow like his should have pierced even the most sturdily constructed armor. It had to be magicked. It was massively unfair of him to wear that plate. It wasn't fair that he cast his spells silently either. 

Zelgadis experienced a minor epiphany.

_Rezo is blind._

_How is he casting silently?_

To cast a spell without using the incantation, the caster usually just gave a mental twist to Magnus' Key and visualized the spell with as much detail and emphasis as possible, shoving it into being through sheer force, rather than the precision and finesse of an incantation-guided spell. 

Rezo couldn't visualize anything. What was he using to guide the force he drew?

Zelgadis studied his ancestor for a few moments, trying to glean all the information he could from the battle, and eventually came to the conclusion that Rezo was using his hands to shape the spells. Most spells included hand gestures of some kind, but most casters performed them perfunctorily. Rezo's motions were detailed and sweeping, and correct in every point.  

The armor might prevent body shots, and now that Rezo was aware that he had a sniper, a headshot was unlikely to succeed, but his hands were unprotected. 

The pistols were too inaccurate. The darts would not cause enough damage. A throwing knife would, but Rezo could conceivably pull it out and heal the damage with only minimal lag. Another shot from the crossbow would be ideal, but difficult to aim. He would have to hit him with a dagger first and follow it up with the crossbow.

Zelgadis let the golem have almost complete control. He needed its precision and its calculation and he was too furious to care about his dubious humanity. He loaded another quarrel into the crossbow and selected a dagger, well balanced, but heavy enough to snap the fragile finger bones, should it enter that way.  

Hold the tip delicately between thumb, middle, and forefinger, careful not to dull the precious edge on his skin. Feel its weight; check the balance one last time. Watch Rezo's casting. Hand going up, up…to hit the apex of its arc in just the time needed for a well-executed knife-throw. 

Zelgadis drew his hand back, flicked his wrist, and threw.

The knife entered Rezo's hand cleanly, sliding between bones, perhaps snapping a few tendons, but doing no other damage. Rezo grimaced and pulled the dagger out without skipping a beat, but Zelgadis had already shouldered the crossbow. This time the bolt met no unexpected resistance and dove through Rezo's palm, tearing a jagged, mangled hole, the breadth and harsh serration of its point enough to make the hand nearly unrecognizable as such. 

White magic is wonderful for healing open wounds, but sorting out a limb that's been mauled like that without doing more damage is something that needs time. 

            Lina heard Rezo hiss and watched him pull Zel's knife out of his hand only to have it nearly torn apart by the crossbow bolt. What the hell was Zel doing? She took advantage of Rezo's momentary distraction and threw a large Freeze Arrow his way. When she heard him begin a chant to block it she understood Zel's actions and her habitual battle grin became all teeth. Now _this_ was more like it. 

            Zelgadis had no time for the elation and unreasonable fury he felt at his too-small victory. He could feel the vague cloud of magic over Rathpole's side of the room coalescing into something potent and finely honed. It was only a matter of minutes until the whole thing snapped down into a finished Philosopher's Stone. He jumped from the tower and raced towards the back of the warehouse.

            Rathpole was delicately stirring a pot of gleaming emerald-black liquid and glancing intermittently at a half-full flask between awed, gape-mouthed stares at Lina's fight with Rezo. When Zelgadis leaped over a wide portion of some of his most delicate, breakable equipment, he jumped and whimpered in reflexive fear before sharply barking out, "Don't _do_ that!"

            "Save it. Do you have water?"

            "Water?"

            Rathpole stared weakly. Water? The battle of the century was taking place right there in front of them, the Philosopher's Stone was almost completed, and he wanted _water?_

            "Yes, water. Do you or don't you?"

            "Yes, I have water. Over there, under the table."

            Zelgadis held up the battered canteen for a careful, suspicious inspection.

            "This is it?"

            "Yes."

            "Are you sure this is water?"

            "Yes."

            "It is potable and non-toxic?"

            "As far as I remember."

            "Good enough."

            Zelgadis unscrewed the canteen's cap and settled down to wait. With no further explanation forthcoming, Rathpole edged nervously away, shrugged, and went back to concentrating on the Philosopher's Stone.

            The air over them was heavy and hot, and between the groaning elements twisting together into the Stone and Lina's tumultuous, madcap display of magical versatility and violence, the fabric of the Astral Plane quivered and shook. They wouldn't have long to wait now.

            Lina was dripping sweat, but the vicious grin remained firmly in place. Now that Rezo had lost that precious edge of speed she was winning even without access to her most powerful arsenal. Rezo was a formidable caster, and in terms of sheer stamina he outclassed just about every other sorcerer she'd met, but that wasn't going to help him now. There is nothing, _nothing_ that stands for long when Lina Inverse is in charge of knocking it down. 

            "Wind that blows across eternity, gather in my hands…"

            Rezo's hands and mouth worked frantically to weave a protective spell.

            "…and become my strength!"

Light flared around Rezo, faceted and bright, but Lina's palms were already tight with contained energy and she could feel the air leaning into her spell.

****

**_"BRAM GUSH!"_**

Air blasted from her hands, glowing white-blue with the edge of her magic, and Rezo's shield pulled and twisted into shape in front of him. As her spell reached the midpoint of its journey, a thunderous crack rang through the room. The immense cloud of brooding magic that had hung over the forming Philosopher's Stone slammed down, compressed into a physical object no bigger than a coin. Lina's Bram Gush shuddered in midair and exploded outwards, bursting crates all around them in a flurry of sharp wooden confetti, and Rezo's shield danced wildly around him like water blooming from a fountain's stone mouths. Rezo took a hesitant step forward, his uninjured hand groping out into the burning air as if to discern by touch a scene he couldn't see, and Lina turned her body sideways and flung her head around in time to see the Philosopher's Stone's short life come to an abrupt and ignominious end. 

No sooner had Rathpole plucked the Philosopher's Stone from where it had solidified in his pan to a cobweb-colored tablet, than Zelgadis asked him if it was complete, and, upon receiving an affirmative, snatched it from the grip of his tongs, unmindful of the heat it still radiated. He took a moment to savor its smooth weight in his palm, its willing, heavy roll across his lifeline, its definition and solidity. Then he closed his hand with crushing force, poured its dusty remnants into the canteen, and drank it down. 

It hit the bottom of his stomach in an icy shock and surged into his bloodstream. In the corners and borders of his consciousness, he could feel its gentle tug for his attention. _What do you want of me_, it seemed to ask. 

"Cure me," he tried to say only within his mind's confines, but felt his lips muttering the words aloud of their own volition. 

_Cure you?_

"Yes." His throat was closing up, and he gasped for air without realizing it. He had somehow fallen onto his hands and knees, and the only thing he could see was the vague shine of his hair in front of his eyes. 

_As you wish._

The tugging, probing questioner left his mind and bitter cold seared him from the inside out. His fingers were suddenly numb and his ears were ringing. Over the ringing, Rezo was saying something in that special tone he reserved for all Zelgadis' failures. 

"…I said…won't work."

Zelgadis wanted to laugh. __

Instead, he blacked out. 

Lina saw Zelgadis slam the Philosopher's Stone down his throat with the harsh punctuation of an experienced drinker knocking back a shot and fall abruptly to the floor, hood flying off. Rathpole scuttled nervously away, horrified at the use to which his hard work had been put.

"Fool," said a quiet voice at her side, and she spun and turned scarlet with fury to find that Rezo had somehow crept up beside her without her being aware of it. 

"As I said, it won't work." 

Rezo turned to face her, and Lina again had the uncanny sensation that he could somehow see her.

"You must be Lina Inverse. It was wise of Zelgadis to hire you. I sometimes don't give the boy enough credit." 

"Less talk and more fight, Rezo."

The priest coughed delicately, and she suddenly noticed the blood running down bent and twisted remains of his hand to drip steadily against the dusty floor. 

"It's pointless now. Zelgadis won. He got to the Stone first. There is no reason to take revenge on him, as there is more than one way to accomplish my goal. Even if I wanted to take revenge, neither one of us could cast any spells that we could control."

He had a point there. The aftershocks of the Philosopher's Stone's formation still raged through the Astral Plane, and any magic called up would be unpredictable and wild.

Without waiting for an answer, Rezo turned and made his way to the door, leaning heavily on his staff. Lina stared furiously for a moment, then turned her attention to the more urgent problem of what to do with Zelgadis. 

He was still passed out on the floor, hands loosely clenched. Lina put her hands under his shoulder and gave a heave, just barely managing to roll him over onto his back. He was far heavier than she had expected. She had forgotten the effect the golem component was likely to have on his weight. There was no way she could get him out of there by herself without using magic. Her eyes lit upon the unlucky Rathpole, who quivered, jelly-like, within a secure niche in his wall of equipment.  

"You. Help me drag him outside."

"But…"

"Do it. Or suffer the consequences."

Rathpole shuddered and did as he was told. 

The first clue Zelgadis had that something was dreadfully, horribly wrong was that he felt perfectly well. 

When he had become a chimera, it had left him too weak to move for nearly a week. For days he hadn't been able to do anything but listen to the occasional crackling noise his bones made as they adjusted to his new weight and muscle strength. His skin had itched and burned constantly, and the brief period of time during which his lungs had not yet adjusted fully enough to completely expand his ribcage when breathing had been torture.

He had expected to suffer something of the sort once again by reversing the enchantment – a spell that complex and thorough wouldn't simply disappear. But instead, he was lying down, relaxed and warm with the characteristic looseness of having rested as much as he needed and more. 

_Didn't it work?_

One eye cracked open to stare at the broad, by now somewhat familiar expanse of Lina's ceiling. The other followed it, and he gazed carefully straight up, not allowing himself to catch any glimpse of what might or might not have changed. If it had worked, he wanted to be able to remember every detail leading to his first experience in longer than he cared to remember as a human being. If it hadn't worked, he wanted to be able to savor these last few seconds of uncertainty. 

Slowly, not daring to look until it was directly over his eyes, he brought a hand up to his face and peeled off the glove. 

His own hand. Familiar and corpse-blue. Stone armor over the knuckles and nails that would probably need to be ground down again in another month. 

He laid the hand back down and closed his eyes in utter exhaustion. 

"Zel. You all right?"

He did not need to open his eyes to realize that Lina was seated across from him and had probably watched him wake up.

"Fine."

The word left his mouth more softly than he had intended. He had tried to make it a barrier to further communication, short and sharp enough to warn Lina to keep her distance and leave him alone, but the only thing he could summon up was weariness. 

Lina watched him, concerned.

"Don't be an idiot. Of course you're not. You look like your pet cat just presented you with the remains of your pet parrot."

Silence.

"You thought it would make you human?" 

For a moment, she thought he would ignore the question completely, but finally he sighed and sat up to face her. Though the gesture was rendered useless by the persistent shadows, she understood the intent and gave him a nod in acknowledgement. 

"Yes."

Lina shifted and idly reached out to cup the lamp's flame with one hand.

"You're an intelligent person and you're well-read. Why on earth did you think it would work? The Philosopher's Stone is a curative item, not a magic nullifier."

"It…my body isn't naturally this way. It's not _supposed_ to be this way. I thought it might just return me to my natural state."

"As far as the Stone's concerned, this is your natural state. There's nothing wrong with your body, Zel. You're perfectly healthy. You're just a chimera." 

"I know. But this was my last chance. Aren't I allowed to hope, that for once in my life, something won't go wrong?" 

His voice had gotten sharper with each word and she could see his hands clenched tight enough to strangle the air. He knew he was losing control, but it didn't matter; there was nothing left to control. The whole situation had been screwed to pieces, and it didn't matter what the hell he did now. 

"What do you mean 'last chance?'"

"I tracked down every other lead I found mention of in Rezo's library. Traveled all over England and the Continent. Nothing."

"Just because it's not in Europe, doesn't mean it doesn't exist."

Zelgadis remained silent. What with the booming trade Europe carried out, if it couldn't be found anywhere within the continent, if it existed at all, it must exist in the most remote and unheard-of regions there were. And the likelihood that so specific a spell as a chimeric reversal would be found outside of its region of origin was minuscule. Even more minuscule was the chance that it would have any effect on an original spell of Rezo's. 

Lina sighed.

"All right. Maybe it doesn't. Maybe you'll never be human again. But is it really so bad? You're luckier than a lot of people. You're well educated. You can move around and defend yourself. Sure, you have some limitations, but everybody has limitations of some kind, and you also have a lot of benefits that nobody else has to make up for them."

Zelgadis shifted slightly and spoke with feather-soft bitterness.

"I…Lina, do you know, I can't even remember what I looked like when I was human?"

"How old were you?"

"Maybe fourteen or fifteen. I don't know. By that time I had been on the streets long enough to have forgotten my birthday."    

"Oh."

Now that the dam had burst, there was no keeping it confined, and Zelgadis babbled on in a slightly drunken manner, drawing absentminded circles on the coffee table.

"You know, when you live out there day after week after month after year, you don't have any dignity left at all. Or maybe the only ones that survive there have no dignity to begin with. I don't know. All I know is, out there you live every second with the humiliation of knowing you'll do anything – anything at all – to prolong an existence that is miserable by any standards by a few hours. I was probably a murderer by the time I was twelve. The point is, in one way or another, I haven't lived as a human being since I was very young. _What if I forget how to be human? What if I've already forgotten?"_

Lina leaned across the table.

WHACK!

"Ow!"

A moment of quiet as both injured parties attempted to recover their dignity.

"Trust me, lunkhead. You're plenty human. You angst too much to be anything else." 

Zelgadis glared. __

Lina sighed before getting up and wandering into the kitchen where she began rummaging, more because it would have felt strange to say it just sitting there, staring at him face to face than because she really needed anything. 

"Look, Zel…I've got a proposal to make to you. The fact is, we're both going to be around for a long time, thanks to the whole magic-and-aging business. And I've really enjoyed working with you – I mean, you're a grouch, you're stuck-up, and you're occasionally denser than anyone has a right to be, but you're also capable and sensible, and when you're not brooding, you give a really good discussion on magical theory. And in a couple of centuries, say, wouldn't it be kind of nice to be able to talk about the good old days with someone who was also around back then?"

Lina re-emerged from the kitchen with two glasses and a large, dark bottle of unidentifiable contents. 

"I guess what I'm saying is, 'Let's be friends.' You could obviously use one, and you never know; it might be kind of fun."   

Zelgadis stared up at her uncertainly, expression unreadable. Lina set down the glasses and poured a finger's width of liquid into each. 

"Come on, drink up. You know you want to. Think of all the advantages that come with being my friend. You get my help if you need it, my dazzling company, whether you need it or not, and you only get Fireballed when you do something _really stupid."_

Zelgadis remained silent and picked up his glass, spinning the stem absently between his fingers. The amber liquid inside picked up the lantern light and projected golden fishnet patterns over the walls. Finally, his face cracked into a little-used half-smile. 

"Friends, huh?"

Lina clinked her glass against his.

"Yeah. Friends." 

The room grew darker and smaller as they drank it down, the glowing reticulations fading from the walls as they swallowed their source. The air hung expectantly, waiting for the telltale chime of glasses setting down. 

Instead, the silence was broken by a shared fit of choking, hacking coughing, as the initial sip's numbness wore off.

"Lina…what _is this?" gasped out Zelgadis._

"_Cough, cough…I don't know. I think it was supposed to be brandy, but… Hold on; let me take a look at that bottle… Oh. No wonder. Luna's Christmas brew. Now I remember why I usually throw it away."_

"Is it…_supposed to taste like that? And be quite that alcoholic?" _

"I think so. She's the only one who can drink the stuff. I think she only gives it out to the relatives she doesn't like."

"…Tough lady."

"You have no idea." 

They both stared at the bottle with the respect normally reserved for the Pyramids of Giza or a fully rigged out man-o'-war before Lina reverently took it in hand. 

"Here. Wanna see what I usually do with these? Give me a hand and set up a Balus Wall in front of the fireplace, would you?"

Zelgadis suddenly felt very nervous about participating in any activity that involved Lina and required a Balus Wall, but cast it anyway while Lina once more disappeared into the kitchen. When she reappeared, her silhouette's width had increased by a few feet due to the armload of food she carried. 

"All right. Let's get outside. I'll Ray Wing us up since you're maintaining the Wall. Hang on tight and watch where you put your hands." 

They exited into the cool summer night and flew up onto the rooftop. Lina counted chimneys until she found hers and put down her armload of provender on the roof's flat spine. Taking out Luna's paint-thinner, she encased it in a small Ray Wing and sent it gently down the chimney with all the air of an official cracking a champagne bottle over the bow of a newly commissioned ship. When it had touched bottom, she motioned Zelgadis back and sent the tiniest flicker of flame she could summon after it before scrambling like mad to join him.

For a minute, nothing happened. 

Then there was an indrawn _whumpf_, like the sound a pillow makes when you've just hit someone really hard in the gut with it. A rumbling ensued, and two-foot long blue flames shot out the chimney.

Zelgadis blinked and said, succinctly, distinctly, and very appropriately:

"Holy shit." 

"Yeah. Isn't it great?"

And with that, Lina happily selected a fat sausage from the cornucopia at her feet and impaled it on her rapier to roast in the flames.    

AN: No, no, this isn't the end! There's still a while to go before this is over. Even I'm not so cruel as to leave it off at a point like that.

Anyway… 

Fast update, hmm? Had to make up for all the delays _someday._ Of course, now I've probably gone and jinxed it and the next few chapters will crawl by… Hopefully not.

Once again, forgive me the liberties I've taken with magic here. I mean, hell, now I've gone and really messed with the Philosopher's Stone. But that's ok. It was fun to write.

Thanks to PKNight for saving me from myself yet again by beta-reading, and as always, thank you for reading. You people are amazing. 


	9. Not Off the Hook Yet

Disclaimer: I do not own Lina, Zelgadis, or Slayers. Don't sue. Hit the Ground Running 

****

Chapter Nine

            By the time the stars disappeared in the east the flames had disappeared down the chimney's hell-black trachea. By the time the sun's white orb had climbed to nestle in amongst the tiers and terraces of the city roofline, the chimney's bricks were only faintly warm. At this point they decided it was probably safe to go back inside, and did so cautiously, choosing an opportune window of momentary quiet to descend from the rooftop. They stepped inside, and upon meeting no smoke or cinders, breathed a collective sigh of relief. They had taken it in shifts to hold the Balus Wall, and were gratified to find that they had not tired themselves out for nothing. In the exact center of Lina's fireplace they discovered the brown bottle that had been the corporeal housing of Luna's spirits, delicately upright and perfectly unscathed but for a dusting of filmy charcoal over its mouth. The fireplace itself could have passed for the entrance to a coal mine. 

The night had been passed mostly in companionable silence after that remarkable exchange. The shock of the Philosopher's Stone's ineffectuality still rode on Zelgadis quietly, though truth to tell, he had half expected it and fully dreaded it. It would probably stay with him for months to come, an uncomfortable, misplaced feeling like having a sharp bit of food lodged in one's throat, too small to impede breathing, but too large to swallow without tearing the delicate membranes of the esophageal lining. But Lina's unexpected kindness had taken his attention away from its sharpest edges. It wasn't going to disappear anytime soon – he had no illusions about _that_ – but having her around to beat the depression out of him might keep the very worst at bay. 

Lina waved the bottle triumphantly and jumped up to whack him (carefully, mind you) over the head.

"All right, you've had your mope. What are you going to do now? And when are you going to pay me?"

Zelgadis gave a sigh and made a mental note not to expect any financial lenience in light of Lina's declaration of friendship. Reaching into his pocket dimension, he extracted coins by the handful to pour in luxurious pools on Lina's tabletop. Lina gaped gleefully and was huddling joyfully over her cash in no time flat.

"You mean you've been carrying this around with you all the time? What was all that complaining about paying for meals then? And where did you get this?"

"Burgled Rezo's safe when I left his service."

After Lina had finished (for the moment) gloating, dragon-like, over her hoard, she turned to face Zelgadis, who sat bemused on the couch, watching Lina cavort atop a pile of coins half her height. 

"So what are you going to go do next? Go thwart Rezo I assume?"

"He's already been thwarted. I got the Stone first."

"I guess you were dead to the world by then, but he said there was 'more than one way of accomplishing his goal.'"

A beat of quiet passed before Zelgadis abruptly stood up and made for the door, snagging Lina on his way.

"Let's go. He's been looking for a way to see for a long time. If he's found something now, it has to be both powerful and obscure."

"And you think it might cure you too?"

"…."

"What are we waiting for? Let's go!"

Another hour saw Lina and Zelgadis wandering through a distinctly unsavory district in search of a person Zelgadis said would know Rezo's whereabouts and most likely what he was up to as well. The street cleaners didn't come out here too often for fear of being mugged, and the cobblestones were rendered almost perfectly flat by a layer of manure and garbage that clung to them, filling in the cracks and gullies between them. Piles of rags quivered in a shaking dance at the sides of the alley, revealed to be children only by wide starveling eyes in the dirt-colored, bare-bones faces. Adults occasionally prowled past with the weary, downtrodden aggression of hyenas. 

"Are you sure this is the right place?"

A sneer curled across Zelgadis' face.

"Very sure," he answered cryptically.

Lina was debating whether to beat it out of him or just let him be uncommunicative when a vision of the sort that might usually cause the viewer to stare, shake his or her head, and immediately return home to question the chef as to exactly what kind of mushrooms had been used in the soup appeared at the end of the miserable alley and traipsed its way toward them with venomous cheer. Lina stared. She had never before in her life encountered anyone who might be described using the word "dapper." Dapper, however, was the term par excellence in describing this man. He wore fine, dandy-ish clothing, and his boots (miraculously unscathed by the city's muck) were polished to the chipper brightness of a beetle's carapace. His hair swung from side to side as he made his way through the miserable alley with blithe indifference. All the while, his smile stretched from ear to ear, and his eyes remained tightly closed as he nimbly skipped over outstretched bodies and heaps of trash. 

The hallucination-_cum_-one-man procession came to a halt just in front of Zelgadis and swept an extravagantly mocking bow.

"Why, Zelgadis isn't it? You haven't changed a bit since I last saw you. Still just the same rock headed, hardhearted, stone skinned, all-around tough guy I remember you as!"

Zelgadis, demonstrating remarkable restraint, grabbed the man's lapels and shook vigorously.

"Shut it, Fruitcake. Where's Rezo and how does he plan to cure himself?"

The Fruitcake's grin widened into an expression of almost epiphanic exuberance and he warmly clasped Zelgadis' hands, completely ignoring their death-grip on his coat.

"So you do know Rezo! Grandson, right? I knew it!"

"Just answer the question. And if you give me any of that 'It's a secret' crap, I'm going to shove those words so far up your…"

At this point Lina intervened.

"You knew he was Rezo's grandson?"

"But of course!" The Fruitcake somehow managed to bat his eyelashes without opening his eyes. "There can be only one explanation for a man who harbors a violent dislike of priests who don't open their eyes."

Zelgadis heaved a sigh and hoisted the Fruitcake a little higher. 

"Can we get to the point?"

"Certainly, my good man!" 

"Spill it, Xellos."

"Weeell…Rezo is in his mansion."

"The rest of it, you bastard."

Xellos' expression was filled with the happy satisfaction of a child who has just done something by himself for the very first time.

"Are you sure you want to know?"

Lina had had enough of the Fruitcake's dodging around, and so promptly put him in a headlock.

"Just spit it out already!"

Xellos did his best to bob his head amiably from within Lina's hold.

"Now, now… That was uncalled for…" 

"Xellos. How. Is. Rezo. Going. To. Get. Cured?"

"That…"

Xellos waggled a finger.

"…is a secret! And you know, of course, that secrets don't come cheap."

Lina gave a battle cry and got ready to pound Xellos as flat as he could go, but Zelgadis beat her to the punch, having stepped back and pulled something out of his cloak. Lina had high hopes for the notorious crossbow, and was consequently somewhat disappointed when the object in question turned out to be a plain white envelope.

"Right. A secret for a secret, Xellos. You tell me what I want to know about Rezo, and Beastmaster never sees this."

The Fruitcake's eyes finally popped open, and Lina saw that his pupils were slitted.

_Mazoku__.__ No wonder he's such a pest.            _

"You'd eventually be very sorry if you did that."

"But you'd be sorrier sooner. And that's what matters."

Xellos' grin stretched a little farther, rendered somewhat macabre by evil stare of his opened eyes.

"Sure you don't want to go full Mazoku, Zelgadis? You'd be _sooo_ good at it."

"Shut up and tell me about Rezo."

"But how can I say anything about him if I've shut up?"

Lina tightened her grip suddenly and Xellos coughed. Zelgadis waved the envelope. 

"Ah, poor misunderstood me. You two really need to get a sense of humor. I know Zelgadis never had one to begin with, but surely there's a speck of…"

Lina _growled_ and Xellos was suddenly an extra-crispy Mazoku.

"…unless, of course you happen to be Lina Inverse."

By the end of the next few punches, the ground was liberally sprinkled with charred bits-o'-Mazoku, and Xellos was thoroughly convinced that he was, indeed, facing Lina Inverse.

Xellos smiled lazily and was suddenly injury-free; skin pulling back over cuts with the elastic ease of rubber and bruises disappearing like cheap cosmetics. Blood dried to black flakes and fell off him in a snowstorm of ill portent. Suddenly he was back to the dapper, dandified eyesore he had been at the start of the encounter. 

"Well, ducklings, don't say I didn't warn you. You're not going to like it at all. He's going to resurrect Shabranigdo."

"He's going to WHAT?!"

_"Why?"_

"It's quite amusing, actually. He thinks it's all his idea. His big plan is to resurrect the Old Man, keep him briefly confined, draw off enough raw power to make a new set of eyes, and banish him as fast as he can." 

"And whose idea is it really?"

Xellos winked and donned a mildly startled expression.

"Why, Shabranigdo's, of course. Have fun, chickadees. Toodles."

And the bastard teleported himself out of there. 

"COME BACK HERE, YOU SCURVY MAZOKU SON OF A BITCH!"

And from far, far away, there came an echoing sing-sing in reply:

"Sticks and stones will break my bones, but names will never hurt me!"

Lina was scarlet, shaking her fist at the spot of empty air that had previously held Xellos. Anger poured off her in a nearly tangible torrent. The alley had long since cleared of people. Even the rats and the roaches had skedaddled. You didn't need to know Lina Inverse was a sorceress to know you needed to get the hell out of there when she was angry. Zelgadis merely glowered. He had long since developed a marginal tolerance for Xellos' trademark brand of annoyance out of sheer necessity. In his business, information makes you or breaks you, and Xellos' business was secrets. They were both good at their jobs, and that made their interaction something of a necessary evil. 

"Grrr...."

Lina, on the other hand….

Well, let us just say that one's first encounter with Xellos Metallium is bound to be deeply shocking at some level. 

Lina abruptly threw her hands up in the air as if to proclaim to the world at large that she washed her hands of the Fruitcake and stomped out of the alley, Zelgadis in tow. After a few blocks she had cooled off a bit, though if Xellos was a smart Mazoku, he wasn't going to be seeing her anytime soon. With the fury pushed over to the side for the moment, Lina's thoughts soon returned to their normal composition; that is to say: 10% Miscellaneous, 40% Food, 50% Greed.

"So what was in the envelope, Zel?"

Lina did her best to look cute. Information that could hold such sway over an evidently powerful Mazoku like Xellos was well worth knowing, and, if exploited in the correct way, potentially extremely lucrative.

Zelgadis glanced askance, gave a start and a blink at Lina's attempt at adorability, then shrugged and handed over the envelope in question.

"See for yourself."

Lina's hand clamped around the white paper in much the same fashion as the jaws of a Venus Fly Trap embrace their victim. She cackled a bit, hunched over her treasure, took a quick look around to make sure no one could see, and ripped open the paper.

Inside, she found nothing at all. 

"Hey! What's the big idea?"

Zelgadis, looking quite amused by this time, gave another shrug.

"Xellos," (said with venom and suppressed malevolent glee), "is a snake. And he's an old one. At some point, he must have done _something his master would disapprove of."_

Lina guffawed and slapped him on the back before realizing the inevitable consequences of said action. Then she yelped, massaged her hand, and guffawed again.

"And you say _he's a snake? 'Sure you don't want to go full Mazoku? You'd be __sooo good at it.'" _

It really rankled to have Lina quote Xellos at him.

After another few blocks, the hilarity had died down (though Zelgadis rightly suspected he would be teased for weeks to come about being just as much of a snake as Xellos), and they found themselves wandering along a busy street overlooking the docks and the river. People pumped through the channel between buildings in a dizzy pulse, carriages pushing through the current with the careless scorn the big have for the little who cross their path. The human torrent was hopelessly monumental. One could stand there for days watching it, and see different people repeat the same ebb and flow over and over again, unaware that they were only following the patterns that had been worn into the cobblestones since the street had first been built. The grimly ant-like rush sobered Lina, and she turned to Zelgadis, who gazed inscrutably through a gap between buildings at the gray, ship-studded Thames. 

"…Is Xellos right? Will Rezo really go so far as to resurrect Ruby-Eye just to gain his sight?"

Zelgadis stared straight ahead and answered with immediate, unflinching certainty. 

"Yes. He would do anything to be cured."

"Even that?"

With the comfort and support of Lina's friendship came the impulse to be completely honest, to let her know just what she was getting into and just who she had become friends with. Zelgadis shrugged.

"I would do it."

Lina looked at him sidelong and shook her head sharply.

"No you wouldn't. You're sane. You wouldn't think you could banish a demon lord, much less _him_. And you wouldn't risk not being able to just so you could die human."

Zelgadis shrugged again. He wasn't so sure. 

"It doesn't matter. Rezo _will_ do it." 

"How far away is his mansion? If he really intends to summon and banish Shabranigdo, he'll need at least a day to prepare the spells. If we leave now, will we be able to stop him before he does it?"

"It's a day's hard travel by carriage. So yes, we could probably get there in time, but what would we do when we got there? We only held him off last time because he wasn't expecting me to disable his hand." 

"Well we can't just sit here! He's about to summon a force capable of destroying the world, for heaven's sake! I don't see how we're going to win either, but at least we have a chance! I mean, we were beating him the last time. All we need to do is find a way to do it again."

Zelgadis was silent. Dying in a failed attempt to one-up the man who had made his life a living hell was one thing. It was a death he could accept, a pill easy to swallow when washed back with so many years of raw, suppressed fury. Dying in a fight against an impersonal evil bent on the destruction of a world that had not given him much cause to wish its salvation was another matter entirely. Half of him just wanted to commit himself to absolute amorality and find some nice quiet spot to wait for Armageddon, and the other half screamed at him that he should be disgusted for even thinking it. 

"Lina…if we can't beat him again, or we don't get there in time, and he summons Shabranigdo…assuming we're still alive…we won't have a chance in hell of living through it, you know."

Lina turned to face him and perhaps heard some of his thoughts lying concealed under the carefully neutral tone of voice. 

"Yeah. I know," she said quietly. "But if it does come to that, we're the only ones here who do stand any kind of a chance. You and I and Rezo are the only really powerful mages I've ever encountered here. If anybody's going to beat Shabranigdo, it will have to be us. We have to try. Any way you look at it, if we don't beat him, we're going to die. If we aren't there to try and stop him, maybe we'll have another day to live at the most."

Zelgadis gravely inclined his head.

"Point."

And with not another word spoken, they both set off with solemn, silent accord to find a carriage.  

AN: I guess I did jinx it with the fast update last time. Damn. Ah, well. 

A couple of you have asked whether this was ever going to turn into a real romance. The awful truth is, that although when I first planned this, it was heading in that direction, I later decided that in good conciousness I couldn't make Zel and Lina feel anything more for each other than strong friendship and tentative attraction within the time-span of this fic. (If you're mad enough to count the days (I was), you'll see that everything happens in a little under two weeks.) Neither one of them is really open enough or honest enough with their feelings for me to do that.

Which is why there's going to be a sequel.

Wait, wait, wait… don't get all excited. It's not going to happen for quite a while. I've got two major Inuyasha stories in the works right now, and I categorically refuse to work on more than two multi-chaptered stories at a time, and two only with the greatest reluctance. 

But it _will_ come eventually. 

As always, thank you to PKNight for beta-reading. And thank you, of course, to you reading this. I hope you enjoyed it. 


	10. And the Walls Came Tumbling Down

Disclaimer: I do not own Lina, Zelgadis, or Slayers. Don't sue. Hit the Ground Running 

****

Chapter Ten

            The carriage, when they found it, was a stolid, muddy vehicle, heavily built, from whose sides glinted an occasional flicker of forlorn gilt, hinting at a time when it had been a fine transport, delicate and clean-limbed. But bit by bit it had fallen apart over the years, an axle here and a sideboard there. The broken pieces had been replaced with items of sturdier stock, and it had been rebuilt into the artificial equivalent of a Clydesdale. Power and doughtiness practically shone from the scored wheels, and one had the distinct feeling that with a good team, it could pull a Hannibal and go over the Alps. 

The horses themselves were an unprepossessing lot, lanky and knobby-limbed, but with that peculiar lean look to their faces and flanks that indicates great speed and endurance. The driver looked much like his beasts, a gangly, unshaven individual who rivaled Zelgadis in taciturnity and surliness. He charged triple the fare of any normal coach, and became, to all appearances, silently enraged when they paid him on the spot with no quibbling whatsoever. All in all, they felt they had made an excellent choice, both being possessed of the cynical, ironic turn of mind which told them that it was the scruffiest, most unwilling-seeming carriage that would get them there fastest and with the least incident. 

This instinct proved correct. As soon as they were both inside the coach, the driver leaped to his seat with the wizened agility of a monkey and clucked to his horses, who had begun to move in a sullen trot even before the door had completely closed. The mud-colored vehicle pushed its way through the crowds with an avalanche-like impassivity indicating in the most unequivocal terms imaginable that anyone believing himself to have the right of way was sadly, and quite possibly, painfully mistaken. 

The first three hours or so of the ride saw them entangled in the labyrinthine bowels of the clamorous city. Though the streets did not, perhaps, curlicue in the magnificent ringlets of the days before the Great Fire, in a city like London, urban clutter and outrage and bustle soon makes newness and straightness irrelevant, in much the same manner as corals soon make a respectable reef out of a straight-laced battleship, and they more often found themselves swerving to the right or the left, or even going backwards than straight. 

Once out of London, they joined the boisterous pulse of traffic thronging to and from the city. Oily merchants, honest men, wives and young women in droves, the occasional rare specimen of country naiveté, thieves of all descriptions…at some point in time, every single class of human imaginable has made its way through London's digestive system. The coach moved steadily through this torrent along a road following the Thames. It had been the fashion about a century ago for the very wealthy to build summer homes along its banks when there had actually been room to build them. Now suburbs had sprung up all around them in haphazard mushroom patterns, but the villas themselves were still magnificently gloomy landmarks. It was in one of these, unfortunately located in a swampy area and so still relatively isolated, that Rezo made his home. 

The two occupants of the shabby coach passed the ride quietly. While in the city they stared out the windows at the dimmed rustling of the crowds. Lina would occasionally point out an item of interest, and pontificate exasperatedly on her opinion of the matter, whatever it was. Zelgadis would peer critically at whatever she pointed at and put in an incisive comment for one side or another. (Usually for Lina's. He had no intention of fighting Rezo, much less Shabranigdo, while recovering from a Fireball.) And so for a while they would engage in the sporadic, relaxed conversation of friends playing the game of distracting each other from something neither wants to think about. Once they left the city's limits, there wasn't as much to comment on, and first Zelgadis, then Lina fell into an uneasy sleep. 

The muddy coach pushed forward, its horses never going faster than a trot, but eating up the ground in gulping strides. The sky darkened around them, and the rumble of traffic quieted into a hum and a whisper and finally to isolated steps of individual travelers, hollow against the dusty ground. 

After a long period of liquid black dreams, Lina startled awake at the coach's sudden halt. She cracked open the door, and was greeted by the driver's grimy face, his head turned to face her in a wry-necked gesture of grudging courtesy. He grunted something to the effect that they had stopped only to change horses. The words of the sentence were entirely unintelligible, and the phrase was imbued with the snarling "Leave me alone" that usually accompanied insults, but he nonetheless managed to make his meaning perfectly clear. 

Lina took him at his word, and shortly her faith was rewarded by his subsequent disappearance and reappearance, the latter while bearing the reins of a pair of beasts to all appearances exactly the same as the ones let out of the traces – lanky, downtrodden, and with coats naturally the color of an incipient case of mange. The new horses were harnessed in, the coachman grunted, and the vehicle resumed forward motion at exactly the same steady trot of the last part of the journey. 

Lina sighed and settled back in her seat. By this time true night had fallen, and it seemed that the early nap had driven sleep away for its duration. She glowered over at Zelgadis, who was slumped over in the opposite corner of the coach in a sleep that, while far from restful, was certainly more so than her current state of tense wakefulness. 

She wasn't worried, per se – just…_tense_. She didn't want to die anytime soon, but if they couldn't beat Shabranigdo, that was exactly what was going to happen, first to her and Zel, and then to the rest of the world. Nothing much she could do about it except what they were already doing.

Her gaze returned to her companion, who by this time had shifted into what looked like a rather uncomfortable position; that is, cramped into the corner, one arm sprawled out along the seat, the other crossed over his stomach, head bowed over his chest, snoring softly. The normality and unguardedness of the position contrasted sharply with his customary cynicism and distrust. She thought she had made a good choice in offering her friendship. Aside from the fact that he obviously needed it…well, the fact was she didn't have many friends either. It was nice to have someone around to talk magic with, and Zel was sensible and levelheaded in situations in which Lina herself often resorted to a fireball. He had the guts and, well, lack of self-preservation necessary to stand up and argue with her. It was a very pleasant change. If they got through this, she'd have to make a point of enjoying his company.

And Lina turned to the window to watch the Earth's lumpy, torn bedspread pass by them. 

The coach jolted to a bumping halt, and Zelgadis started awake and quickly took stock of his surroundings. Lina leaned at the window, eyes half-lidded and dozing. She shook her head, blinked, and stretched, looking far more awake at the end of this process than she had at the beginning. 

"This it?"

After glancing out the window, Zelgadis nodded sharply.

"Yes."

"All right, then. Let's go and get this over with."

"Agreed."

The two stepped out of the coach and made their way to the slumbering, lumbering mansion, leaving the coachman snorting discontentedly in much the same tone and timbre as his horses after being told by a determinedly cheerful Lina to "Wait here until we come out. Or until the world ends. Whichever comes first."

Rezo's abode crouched silently, a dark hulk rendered featureless in the night. Its silhouette could have described anything from a mundane, mossy boulder comfortably settled into its hollow of soil, to a sleeping giant, liable to toss and turn at any moment to crush the observer. The only thing to betray its identity as an abode was a patch of white, white light, too pure to have its source in meager flame and tallow, hovering in the dark from an upper window. 

Zelgadis and Lina walked up the path, steps sounding oddly in the heavy air. 

The door proved no obstacle, and the way to Rezo was as clear as water tracks in dust. Magic surged through the house's creaking rooms, crackling and ferocious, almost thick enough to grab and shape with bare hands alone. They followed its sinewy tendrils up the stairs and were faced with a wall bare of doors but for one positioned, Cyclops-like, in the very center. Silence held for one second as they exchanged glances, and then Lina nodded towards Zelgadis, who stretched out his hand and unlatched the door. 

Rezo stood in the exact center of the large, bare room, facing precisely toward the door, head half-bowed. Glare jumped from the complex runes inscribed on the floor to crawl sinuously up the stark walls, illuminating the otherwise dark room.  The blind man tipped his head to the side, as if listening to a faint, almost-identifiable sound before speaking gravely in the same dry, toneless voice of their previous encounters.

"Zelgadis, is it? And Miss Inverse also, if I'm not mistaken. I thought you might come. It's only fitting that you be here now. If it hadn't been for your interference, it would not have been necessary to resort to these drastic measures."

Lina felt, rather than heard, Zelgadis growl beside her and hiss out in a tight, strangled whisper, "Rezo, you bastard…"

The priest's voice cracked out across the empty room like a whip.

"That is _enough, grandson. You think you desire a 'cure' for your condition? I seriously doubt your sincerity on that count. Your efforts lack both patience and determination. If you truly desired a cure, you would find it, as I have. If you truly desired it, right now, you would be doing this, not I."_

And Rezo's hand snapped forward and over, palm facing the ground, as if pressing down some immense weight, and he barked out a short phrase. Magic flooded the room in palpable waves and the runes on the floor exploded in brilliance.

And then, in the midst of the roaring white light, Rezo's locked, sealed eyelids fluttered and opened, at first slowly, and in a rush, hurrying to satisfy the greed for color and light and shape of newborn eyes, red as the Earth's last dawn. 

As soon as they saw that piercing crimson, both Lina and Zelgadis knew. 

Rezo had _absorbed Lina's Dragon Slave. _

Xellos had said that it had been Shabranigdo's idea to resurrect Shabranigdo, the Ruby-Eyed.

And Rezo's sealed-shut, incurably blind eyes were _red._

In the center of the room, Rezo bent nearly double, leaning on his slender staff, red, red robes billowing around him, a bleeding stab-wound in the clean blankness of the hard white light. His eyelids pressed grotesquely and unblinkingly to the very tops of his eye sockets, and he scanned the room hungrily, all the while laughing purely and childishly, triumphantly happy. And his eyes opened farther and farther, until there was nothing left but a churning red mass whose laughter lacked anything of purity or childishness, but rang wholly triumphant. 

Zelgadis was furious. Furious with Rezo for achieving a cure, even more furious with him for it being the horrific falsity it was, furious with himself for not seeing it sooner, furious with Shabranigdo for arbitrarily surging up into the middle of his own private, sordid mess of vengeance and betrayal. Now, while Shabranigdo was still only partially anchored in the here and now, was undoubtedly his best chance. He ordered his thoughts into the precise, resonant array of spellcasting and drew a deep breath before extending his consciousness out into the Astral Plane. 

_"Source of all souls…"_

Lina felt energy gather to Zelgadis, orbiting in ever tighter, frantic spirals as the spell began to manifest in his hands, and silently thanked the Lord of Nightmares that her initial estimation of his magical aptitude had been correct as she recognized the chant. A strong Ra-Tilt was probably the only normal spell outside of White that had a chance of halting Ruby Eye, even in his present, barely-formed state. 

The spell keened viciously in his grip and flung itself out of his hands in a flare of retina-searing light. It burst against the flank of the newly formed Dark Lord and broke, shattered across the Astral Plane by the strength of Shabranigdo's outer defenses. Hoping the Ra-Tilt might have imperceptibly weakened the monster, Lina followed it with an Elmekia Flame. 

By now, Shabranigdo had manifested fully, and he walked relentlessly toward them, laughing all the while as they threw spell after spell at him, furiously determined to force at least one to work. He left deep, smoking footprints in the fine wood of the floor, and his horny shoulders scraped against the roof, tearing a jagged swathe of sky through the ceiling. 

Lina gritted her teeth and dived to the side with Zelgadis as Shabranigdo's hulking presence approached, firing an Elmekia Lance at his exposed back on the way and mentally raging. They had gone through every Astral Shamanist spell there was; Zelgadis had even desperately repeated his Ra-Tilt, all to no effect whatsoever. 

What really got Lina was that Shabranigdo was beatable. 

It was theoretically possible to beat anything if you get crack open its Astral defenses enough to blast a spell through. On any other being, Lina would have been Dragon Slaving right and left by now, and using the weakness caused by severe physical damage as an opening to Astrally shred anything that survived the blast, but using a Dragon Slave on Shabranigdo would probably just make him laugh harder. After all, it was his spell. And his defenses were _strong. Astral Shamanism was having absolutely no effect at all. It was like trying to wear down a cliff by throwing buckets of water at it. That could, however, simply be because Shabranigdo guarded specifically against that type of magic. She could probably force her way through with a Giga Slave, but she wasn't sure that even that spell would have enough juice left to do Shabranigdo in after wiping out his defenses, and no matter how weakened, the Ruby-Eye Lord was the Ruby-Eye Lord. What she really needed was a spell that he wasn't guarded against that could worm through his defenses so she could blast him inside out. _

Shamanism was apparently worthless in this situation.

She couldn't cast any of the White spells that might be powerful enough to do the job, and apparently neither could Zelgadis. 

Black was out of the question as all the Mazoku hierarchy fell under Shabranigdo.

Of course, it was highly likely that there were at least one or two high-level Mazoku willing to turn traitor for the possible gain in power they would receive with Shabranigdo's weakening, but now wasn't really the time to feel which Mazoku's allegiance might not precisely fall under Shabranigdo….

…Wait a minute.

Zelgadis was part Mazoku. 

Lina glanced over to where he crouched, panting, back to the wall in frustration. Shabranigdo boomed another laugh and flicked a wave of blackly burning energy at them, playing with them. Lina's hamstrings keened almost audibly as she dove away and Zelgadis' leap to the other side was noticeably slowed from his usual quicksilver speed. They were now situated on opposite sides of the room, the Ruby-Eyed king's form hulking squarely between them. They wouldn't last much longer.

There would be no chance at all to warn Zelgadis or ask his permission. Hell, she had no idea whatsoever what the spell would do to him, but in this situation she was going to have to assume that if it didn't bother the Mazoku Lords, it wasn't going to bother him.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. 

Zelgadis was not going to forgive her easily for this – if he ever did. 

Zelgadis saw Lina across the room, sweaty strands of cinnamon-red hair plastered across a face the sickly white of limestone in the glare of Shabranigdo's power, mouthing something at him.

"Distract him."

Zelgadis forced down a bitter, ferocious smile (after all, that was all they had managed to do so far, wasn't it?), shrugged, and snapped his feet in the appropriate direction for a flanking attack. He was nearly dry of magical power, and considering how much effect it had been having lately, he preferred to forgo the suffocating mental fatigue that came with complete magical exhaustion. His sword and knives would just have to do. Shabranigdo let out yet another belly laugh as he leapt and twisted midair to dodge an off-hand swipe of the kind one uses to discourage mosquitoes. 

What a way to go. 

Lina saw him dive in, and breathed a mental sigh of relief as Shabranigdo turned to follow his attack. This would have to be done quickly and precisely. She extended her will into the Astral Plane, finding that bitter edge of cold that marked Zelgadis' odd, patchwork presence, now even sharper than before, flickering in malevolent, desperate defiance of the burning, roiling heat that the Ruby-Eyed lord cast over the plane. Working quickly, she extended ghostly prehensile tendrils, tugging at its fringes in thorough, hurried inspection, trying to find a loose end, a lean towards one form or another. As Mazoku go, Zelgadis wasn't very powerful, but the interference of his human and golem components made his Astral signature complicated and difficult to manipulate. 

Mid-dodge, Zelgadis felt an indescribably odd tugging on the edges of his mind, as if someone was trying to comb through the tangled knots and snarls of his thoughts. The sensation was so abrupt and disturbing that his duck under Shabranigdo's sweeping limb turned into an impromptu roll, nearly allowing the Shabranigdo to squash him underfoot. As he leapt backward into a reflexive crouch, he swept a figurative net through the Astral, searching for the source of the disturbance, hoping it would not turn out to be some insidious curse that Shabranigdo had tagged him with when he hadn't been looking. 

To his shock and outrage, it was nothing of the sort. 

Lina, his _friend, was trying to find a way to manipulate the side of him that was purely Mazoku into forming a spell. _

As he leapt and dodged frantically, hoping to remain unpredictable enough to forestall his inevitable demise for at least a few more minutes, his thoughts careened through the same convoluted course that Lina's had followed earlier and arrived at the same conclusion. 

That did not prevent her actions from bearing the acid sear of betrayal. Lord of Nightmares, she was meddling in his Astral essence without his permission! What other reaction than outrage and indignation was possible?

But he was damned if he would let Shabranigdo _née_ Rezo kill him when such a brilliantly poetic revenge offered itself up to him. 

With that, he completely released his habitual mental control, the hidden viciousness and keen desire for violence crashing over his thoughts in roaring tides. Throwing himself forward onto the balls of his feet, he darted in for another useless attack, faster and crueler in intent.

Lina felt the brush of Zelgadis' consciousness, searching for the disturbance he had felt. She half expected him to slam up a barrier to protect his much-abused privacy out of sheer reflex, and was prepared to tear it down by force if she had to. Instead, she nearly lost her precarious grip on Astral reality when the Mazoku tint to his aura suddenly flared, steady and deathly chill, straining toward the looming presence of Shabranigdo with unmistakably deadly intent. Lina wasted no time in pondering the sudden shift. The dominance of the Mazoku element made it much easier to grasp and mold into a shaped attack. 

And take it and twist it into shape she did, a nasty little spell that snarled and hummed in her hands before hurling itself at Shabranigdo's flank in a short series of dark blades, its point of origin presently darting madly between the flaring magics the Ruby-Eyed sent against him in lazy amusement. The distraction proved enough, and the spell struck home. 

Zelgadis felt a twisting clawing at the base of his skull, and realized dimly under the sharp-edged darkness that covered his thoughts what it was. The feeling briefly crescendoed, molten lead shot up his spine, and the next thing he knew his knees wobbled under him and his mind clouded with the familiar gray haze of magical overexertion.

 He managed somehow to dodge the next three swipes before being struck by a heavy force that threw him up against the wall and past it to the edge of broken oblivion. 

Lina saw Zelgadis fall to an enraged swipe of the Ruby-Eyed Lord's open palm, but didn't, _couldn't_, concern herself with it. She had no time, no time at all. Shabranigdo was turning toward her. There was no time to check if the spell had opened a chink in his defenses, she had to cast the Giga Slave and cast it _now_. 

_Rezo, if there's any left of you at all, now is the time to show it! _

In an impossible response to her impulsive Astral shout, Shabranigdo's steps slowed infinitesimally and came to a brief halt. It was all the time Lina needed to launch into the fastest Giga Slave of her life.

_"Darkness beyond blackest pitch, deeper than the deepest night!_

_Lord of Darkness, shining like gold upon the Sea of Chaos, _

_I call upon thee, swear myself to thee!_

_Let the fools who stand before us be destroyed by the power that you and I possess!_

_GIGA SLAVE!"_

Her mind filled with heavy molten metal, encasing her thoughts in aureate liquid, packing her skull walls tight with power before it burst out of her and plunged into Shabranigdo. The Ruby-Eyed Lord roared, but Lina was too busy collapsing to notice. The Mazoku Lord fought against the Giga Slave's inexorable grind, but the Lord of Nightmares is a stern mother, and brooks no disobedience from her children. Splintered boards flew from the walls and the house's foundation gave a brief shudder before splitting with a monstrous crack. The floor collapsed and everything not caught up in the Giga Slave's vicious howling fell with it, Lina and Zelgadis disappearing in a limp and fleeting glimpse of color into the rubble. 

The nearby Thames raged in tidal waves, and the ground tore open in a raw sore of exposed topsoil. The surly cabby and his horses had long ago taken flight, the quaking ground making their path uncertain. The air snapped and hissed under the spell's furious shriek. In perhaps an hour, the Giga Slave ended as abruptly as it had begun, and the suddenly silent morning was left with the quiet, shattered bones of Rezo's mansion. 

AN: Once again, I've tweaked the Slayers magic system to my own ends, but you people have been remarkably lenient with me on that count, so I'm going to shut up and not worry too much about it. And I still can't believe nobody's gone and lynched me for not making this a "real" romance. You guys are incredible!

Just one more chapter to go… Man, it's been a long time in coming, hasn't it? Thanks for sticking through with it this far. And many, many thanks to PKNight as usual for beta-reading. 


	11. Safe Landing

Disclaimer: I do not own Lina, Zelgadis, or Slayers. 

Hit the Ground Running

Chapter Eleven:

Zelgadis stirred gingerly and extended a hand to touch the torn plank of wood resting above him. He was sore, a rarity in his stone body, and wondered absently if the bruises would soften his skin. Shifting into a position that crammed his shoulder blades against a solid chunk of rock that might once have been part of the foundation of a rather grand house, he put both hands to the aforementioned plank and shoved. It obligingly slid off to the side, making a large enough gap in the rubble to allow an ominously rumbling rush of plaster and wood to attempt to stampede upon his person. Zelgadis quickly shifted his hands and shoved again. 

In this fashion, he made his way to the top of the mountain of trash. Fog twined about the ruins of Rezo's mansion, probably as a result of the river's interaction with the lingering magical reverberations of the destruction of a piece of Shabranigdo. Zelgadis perched himself on a convenient couch cushion that had somehow landed upright atop the heap. He was alive and the world looked no more apocalyptic than it had before. 

So what had happened? 

They had been fighting Shabranigdo and nothing had been working. Lina had told him to distract him, and then…

Now _that he remembered._

How _dare she? He understood why she had done it, but he was furious. _Nobody_ had the right to screw with his Astral essence like that, even if it __was to save the world. When he found her, Lina was going to be very, very sorry. _

…When he found her.

With a glare and a muttered curse at the mountain of rubbish, Zelgadis set to work. 

About an hour after Zelgadis began his work, Lina woke up. Being completely drained of magical force, instead of simply blasting her prison into ash, she settled for yelling often and enthusiastically. Zelgadis, with his excellent hearing, followed the outraged shouts to where she lay buried, but did not let her know she could stop. Though it was a relief to know that she was apparently undamaged, he was still mad at her. She could just keep yelling a little longer.

It was past noon when Zelgadis lifted the last remains of a luxurious chandelier off of the cavity in the rubble where Lina sat cross-legged, looking uncommonly like a very skinny, enraged toad that had somehow gotten hold of a wig. Magical overexertion had bleached her hair white, and she looked as tired and bruised as he felt, but otherwise seemed all right. Well, aside from a distinctly hoarse timbre to her voice when she yelled at him, she seemed all right.

"Zel, you jerk! Don't tell me you couldn't hear me with those ears of yours! What the hell took you so long? I was yelling for _hours_, and now my throat's all sore! It's all your fault!"

"If you keep yelling at me," Zelgadis pointed out smugly, "it will be even more sore."

Lina, undeterred, shrieked and clobbered him.

Quite a while later, the sound and the fury had died back down to silence as clobber-er and clobber-ee nursed their wounds. By mutual accord they sat side by side facing the ruins of the mansion. 

"Zel?"

"Hm?"

Lina bit the inside of her cheek. She hoped he would forgive her. She liked Zel.

"I…I'm sorry about using that spell. You know which one. It's just that there was really no other choice, and I…"

She went on for a while in this awkward fashion, trying to make a decent apology to him. It wasn't something she was really good at, not having had much practice. As she continued, Zelgadis' face shifted from its usual expressionless state into a peaceful smugness. He knew Lina Inverse didn't do many apologies. The fact that he was getting one this sincere and stumbling indicated that she, at least, wanted their friendship to survive. 

"HEY! Aren't you going to say anything?! I just apologized to you, idiot!"

A pause, and then Zelgadis stirred slightly.

"S'all right."

Lina breathed a sigh of relief and exasperation.

"Good. I'll make it up to you, ok?"

Zelgadis raised an eyebrow and threw her a rather sly glance before responding.

"Pay for my coffee for the next week."

"WHAT?! I'll be broke in a day! No way!"

"I paid for your food."

"So? You burgled Rezo's safe! You have plenty of money!"

"I just paid you for a job. You have plenty of money."

Lina growled. This was true. And she did feel bad about the spell.

"Moron. I'll pay for a quarter of your coffee."

"Deal."

Zelgadis let slip a grin. He could drink a _lot_ of coffee. 

The wind fluttered curiously around them, tugging at Lina's white hair and making the shredded curtains pinned in the rubble flap loudly.

"Zel?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you going to do now?"

_What **am** I going to do now?, thought Zelgadis with a start. It finally struck him for the first time that Rezo was well and truly dead. His vengeance was completed, though not in the fashion he had expected. The Philosopher's Stone was gone for another century, and had proven useless in any case. He was completely free of the ties of his earlier life. It was rather anticlimactic. So he shrugged and laid out his automatic response to questions about his business._

"Go look for leads on a cure somewhere, I guess."

Lina nodded. She had been expecting that, of course. 

"If you want, you could stay here," she said carefully, "Be my partner. I get a lot of funny customers, and one of them might turn something up." 

He gazed at her inscrutably for a minute and Lina held her breath. Finally he nodded.

"All right. For a while."

"Woo-hoo! Come on, Zel, let's go! I'm hungry! If we run, we can probably make it to a restaurant in time for the late lunch buffet!"

Zelgadis gave a long-suffering sigh and got his ass in gear to follow Lina's dash for the road. Soon, all that was left of their presence was a pile of wreckage, a cloud of dust, and rapidly fading cries of "Move it, will ya?" wafting faintly on summer's gentle breeze.

And life went on. 

AN: Random thing you didn't know about this story: Written almost entirely to the sweet sounds of Rammstein. Why, I can't fathom in the slightest. But "Mutter" is a good album.

Ah, well. This time, it actually is the end. It was a fun ride – I enjoyed writing this immensely, and you people who read and reviewed were just awesome. I'm grateful to just about everyone who was involved with this project, but there are a few people who deserve special mention.

****

****

**Alyssa** beta-ed the earlier chapters of this and did a damned good job of it. Without her help, it would probably never have been posted to FF.net.

**PKNight** leapt into the lurch and offered to beta-read when I lacked a beta-reader. She's done a wonderful job, and I'm eternally thankful to her.

**Karris and deliria** – though I had a multitude of amazing readers, you guys really stand out. I'd read a review from one of you two and then spend the rest of the day wandering around with this big, stupid grin plastered all over my face. 

Thank you to all of you. You made this one of the most enjoyable projects I've undertaken in a long time. I only hope I've managed to…er, return the fun, at least in part. Enjoy yourselves out there, and maybe I'll see you around.

-Xue


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